


In Sweet and Occulent Memory

by marsmultiverse



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Depression, Domestic Violence, Eventual Smut, Family Dynamics, Family Member Death, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Infidelity, Memories, Mental Health Issues, Minor Original Character(s), Multi, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Past Child Abuse, Self-Harm, Smut, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Teacher-Student Relationship, Top Severus Snape, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2019-10-19 03:01:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 125,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17593373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marsmultiverse/pseuds/marsmultiverse
Summary: Albany Olivia Newson was born on December 26th, 1970 to a family of academic American Muggles. She is kept from attending Hogwarts for several years before her parents reluctantly agree to let her go after she completes her A-Levels. Albany's time at Hogwarts takes place from 1987-1991, the year before Harry arrives at Hogwarts.She is a Seer, whose talents and visions catch the eye of Albus Dumbledore... and some others.She is endowed with a quest to save a man from death, to save the lives of those she loves, and to help shape the final Act.Yes, there is smut in this, but there is also PLOT. This story will span throughout around 30 years, so brace yourself... and do bookmark to get reminders when a new chapter is posted.Hope you all enjoy!*I also tried to write this so that it could, potentially, be canonically possible. You'll see... although it's a work in progress, you'll see...*This includes stuff from Fantastic Beasts and also Hogwarts Mystery (the app I am super addicted to). Just so you know in case you're not caught up with those two series/storylines. Also... the Cursed Child... sorry (I know it sucks but it is canon).





	1. A Young Girl Who Started A Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here are the general introductions of our two main protagonists.
> 
> *warning: themes of antisemitism, child abuse, and domestic violence*

 

***

 

The day was December 27th, 1970. Albany Olivia Newsom was born into a family of Muggle parents, two proud independent hippies who had met at an arts festival in Asheville. She was an only child, openly loved by both, who made a sacral vow to raise her well and right, and to ensure that she would receive the best education she possibly could. She was born in the state of North Carolina before her father got his job at Oxford, and they proceeded to move into the semi-rural village and civil parish of Blacksfield, England. It was a strange decision indeed, though this family was far more strange than would meet the eye. Aside from domestic rantings on obscure left-wing academia, there was much other stranger things afoot in this home... We all are made up of the stuff that cannot be seen, heard, smelled, tasted, or touched. Their daughter would be no different, made up of something far more abstract and rather magical, in fact.

Her father was a professor of literature at Oxford, and her mother was an independent writer and local secondary school substitute teacher. They were all expected to live a happy, _normal_ life in Blacksfield. The commute to Oxford was easy for her father by car, and her mother often took her to the local stables and farms to meet animals. These were happy memories for her, though all would change when it was to be discovered that there was something rather unique about their only daughter. They would discover her proclivities at a young age. Better sooner than later, as they say.

From a young age, her mother had noticed that odd things would happen around the house. Cutlery would move, animals would appear in the house, and she swore she even saw the occasional floating object from time to time. After a visit to the nearest Oxford psychiatrist, her mother determined that she was not, in fact, schizophrenic. The psychiatrist sought another diagnosis and even prescribed how heavy sedatives, but this mother had accepted her fate, accepted her role as the caretaker of her beautiful little baby who was a bit less than conventional.

After this change in heart, it was easy enough to pin this on her daughter, considering that they spent so much time alone in the house together. Her daughter would soon openly show her mother her magical abilities, and her mother found it incredibly charming. She could summon birds and insects, tickle her mother's feet with the tall English grass in the summertime, and her laughs and memories seemed to penetrate her mind, looking inside for answers, for entertainment, for amusement. Her mother indeed found all this charming, and found it made her love her little girl more and more and more. She didn't think that her magic could ever be used for anything other than good, anything other than what was in the realms of possibility for a sweet child. However, this sentiment would soon change. Her mother had always needed to face a lesson about being far too forgiving, far too accommodating. What else could she have done?

At ten years old, Albany had demonstrated rather severe social issues. She couldn’t seem to relate to other children from the village, and spent most of her time alone, playing in the fields and speaking with the animals. She would be picked on in school, not retaliating back then, for being too "weird". She wasn't really sure how to look other kids in the eyes, how to play house, how to have a tea party with dolls, how to play some unnamed sport with a bouncy ball. Albany's mother would come to pick her daughter up from daycare to find her sitting in the corner of the backyard, usually holding a toad, sometimes a squirrel, even once a delicate little robin. She would show her mother these animals and would smile, her eyes twinkling a bit as though she were some wisened wizards, before letting the animals free and taking her mother's hand, leading her out and away from the other children and back towards their comfortable little hovel.

She had grown quite fond of the neighbor’s cat, as animals were a great love of hers, but this neighbor was not fond of this young girl after seeing her using magic to bring her handmade figures of stick, leaves and twine come to life before her very eyes. He was a crude, distasteful man, who cared for little more than Scotch and the chance at humiliating others. Albany's parents knew of him, and since he didn't bother him directly, they didn't even consider warning Albany about the man. As much as they knew, he was their neighbor, a vague acquaintance. 

Albany was slowly drawing her petite chubby fingers through the soft felt of the white tom that would come down to the tall grass near the cobblestone road in front of her home. Her parents gave her near free-reign of the neighborhood, trusting both their neighbors and her own abilities. They assumed she had some insight as to how to protect herself and how to use her 'magic' if need be. She would see this lovely tom nearly every day, and she would speak silently with him. He would share his secrets, his pains, his worries, his concerns. He confessed to not liking his master very much, either. She asked him if he would want to move into her house, but he said that his true dream was to live out in the wilderness, meet a nice feral mate, and settle in with some mutt kittens in a grove somewhere out in the unknown. She would pet this cat for hours, hum into its ear, and the two would bond. They both liked each other quite a lot.

"Oi! You! Get your bloody little fingers off Teddy!" he would shriek in his thick local drawl, sending a shiver down Albany's spine as she hurried away, stumbling on her own little white dress, stained brown and green from playing out in the fields with the animals. She would always run away, though there was one day where she did not quite feel like running. She was ambivalent about this decision. On one hand, she wondered what exactly his wrath would be, but on the other hand, she wanted to know why this man always wanted her to get away from his damn cat.

The man would come up to her on this one day, forcefully grabbing her shoulders and shoving her young face towards his jewels before her young mind could even begin to process any of this, before unbuttoning his pants and putting her lithe hand on his member. She began to cry, and the man began to laugh. The cat wandered further into the brush behind the house, tentatively looking back at her, mewing softly as it apologizing before disappearing entirely into a thicket of green directly adjacent to the base of the chimney. She jerked away from the man, and managed to bite one of his fingers, bottling up all of her magic inside of her, hoping to not get scolded by this man again. All she wanted was to be let go, to be let free from his grasp, and to remove herself from the presence of this confusing neighbor. The bite was not taken well. The jewels were put back in their robber's bag. She was rather curtly asked to leave, and he stalked after the cat, attempting to kick it out of the brush. She could feel a trickling inside of her head, right behind her eyes. Red. Purple. Violet. Albany put her little hands over her eyes, hoping to block out this surge of violent color, and ran back to her house as quickly as possible. There was a kind of energy building up in her body that she had never felt before, and she did not quite know what to do with it. She tried to keep it. She tried her best to keep it in. She froze, feeling the gentle caresses of the tall grass around her tiny body, noticing how her blood was, quite literally, beginning to boil.

She began to scowl with a newfound ferocity, and angrily walked back to her house, where she sat at the windowsill by the kitchen and glared at her neighbor’s cursed abode across the street. Soon, it caught fire in a sudden burst of near-violet flames. This was more than a fire, this was a kind of chemical explosion whose likes she had never before seen or understood. There was a warmth growing deep within her, and she felt invigorated, absolutely doused with an apocalyptical surge of adrenaline. It was all rather scary for a young child to be experiencing.

She heard the screams, but somehow she kept her focus, and the fire intensified. It was the painful meows that caught her attention. She watched as her favorite cat stumbled out of the house, amidst the burning shrubbery, on fire, and seething in agony, mewing and mewing. She could hear his words as he begged for his life to come to an end as quickly as possible. She thought of his wishes, his desires for a family and for children and a little bit of happiness and reprieve, vanish into nothingness. His body was ash, and fell apart, and that was all there was of him.

Horrified with what she had done, the fire immediately stopped. She observed that she had in fact killed the entire family. She ran to her bed and flung herself underneath her covers, crying piteously before being woken up by her mother’s gentle touch. Her mother had her suspicions, but prayed that nothing would come of this. The investigators could find no source of the blaze. The village went into a state of mourning.

Her mother was resolute in her desire to keep her daughter at home. She petitioned with a man named Albus Dumbledore, who kept sending their family various owls, that it would be best for her child to complete at least her college-level education before even considering this ‘alternative school’ he so adamantly recommended. He did not fight her on this matter. Perhaps he trusted a mother’s instinct. For the time being, he let this girl, and her unaddressed magical abilities, go without much consternation. Muggle-borns were the most difficult students to adjust to the wizarding world. Their parents were the most reluctant to let them go, to let their child venture into a world entirely different from their own. They could scarcely believe its existence. Dumbledore, however, trusted in Albany’s mother’s belief that her daughter should be acquainted with the Muggle world in some fashion. He, on a personal level, had no objections to Muggles by any means, considering his mother was one.

 

***

 

The year was 1987. Albany would go on to skip two entire years of school due to what her teachers called her ‘special brilliance’. She would finish college and her A-levels by the time she was just 16. She would spend hours with her mother, who had recently quit her job as a secondary school teacher, reading literature, painting, collecting sticks and stones and weaving tapestries. She and her mother were quite close. Her mother would comfort her every night before bed in her room in the attic by braiding her long reddish hair into a singular braid before scratching her back in an act of tenderness and putting her to sleep. Albany truly loved her mother with all of her heart.

They would have discussions deep into the night around the struggles of intimacy which nearly all male protagonists in 19th century literature share, as well as motherly concerns in relation to Freud. The two loved to bash Freud, indeed. Sometimes, when she was alone in her attic with her mother, she would cause objects to float and relay, in incredibly accurate detail, every moment of her day. Her mother would always commend her and cover her with kisses, despite Albany being the age which pushes away such demonstrations of affection. Her mother knew that Albany was getting incredibly bored after finishing school, and that there was little to nothing keeping her in Blacksfield except her family. She knew that Albany wasn't interested in going to Oxford, despite her father's constant nagging. He just wanted the best for her, after all. He cared for her, he knew she was smart and he wanted her to succeed. She claimed that she didn't foresee an economically viable future being another member of the family with a comparative literature degree. She also said that there was another school in her future, though she did not quite have a name associated with it yet. This was very frustrating to her father, understandably. He could never fathom her daughter's lack of drive nor his wife's encouragement of her _unconventional_ talents. 

Albany had very few friends. It was difficult for her to socialize on a daily basis, and she feared ridicule from her peers for her objectively poor hygiene and even poorer social skills. Her clothes were second-hand and her face would be covered in dust from spending time in the fields taking care of local horses and livestock. Additionally, her American-British hybrid accent was subject to ridicule as well. She had always known that, wherever she would go, she would always be bound by her differences. She repeatedly stated that she was going to be going to a new school in the near future, and her mother did confirm this notion without offering specifics. There was one character, in particular, who she could not even begin to identify, which took pretense in her mind. He was there in her waking hours, when she went down to sleep, and sometimes in her dreams. She was having such trouble figuring out his appearance; it was as though he intentionally wasn't offering himself unto her. He wasn't letting her mind into his, her insight into his.

Her father spent less and less time at home, seemingly preferring to go to the pub rather than to spend time inside with his family. He too was the kind of man who struggled with friendships, specifically with other men, and therefore spent all his time trying to make them, and ultimately failing. He had gotten himself in quite a few bar fights that nearly ended in a trip to the ER, but Albany could help out somewhat with her touch. Albany's mother only let her use her magic if her father was at least somewhat unconscious, hoping he wouldn't realize how unique his daughter was in its entirety. She would feel her father, knowing only the tip of the iceberg of her own prowess, curious to see whether or not her magic would have another outbreak like it had in her past. All was scary, and all was terrifying. At least she had been working independently on using her magic for some good, even if that good meant fixing up your eccentric father after one of his many bar fights.

He disapproved of Albany’s abilities outside of academia, and her mother advised her not to do anything vaguely strange while her father was around, or conscious, at least. The slightest touch, the slightest twitch, or the slightest fizzle of magic made the man deeply uncomfortable. He truly had hoped she would join him at Oxford, but told him that she created an excuse that what she needed was a few years to figure herself out before considering university. He had hoped she would study comparative literature just like she did, and although she loved literature, she was unsure of whether she wanted a bit more than what her parents had. They were together, they had a strange but headstrong daughter, and a sweet house in the country. She felt that there could be something more to her life, something outside of the fields where she would roam, manifesting butterflies and causing the spontaneous growth of twigs and small trees, shrubs adorned with berries and sweet plane trees.

By the end of that summer, the summer before her arrival at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, her father lost his job at Oxford. They claimed he was displaying ‘erratic behavior’ and not setting a good example at an academic environment. He had come to hit Albany’s mother, and threaten her as well. He only hit Albany once, slapping her right above the cheek, leaving a slight cut and a blueish mark that lasted about a week.

Albany felt so alone. She had never had a boyfriend, or girlfriend, for that matter. She was awfully quiet in classes. She mostly fraternized with her teachers, scribbling in a notebook or staring idly at clouds outside her windows. She would listen to the radio and collect vinyls of her favorite performers. She would style her strawberry-blond hair in the mirror in her room by herself before heading out. She didn’t have any friends to speak of. No one was sure how to approach her. She gave off a distinct air of intimidation. She would wander through the streets of Blacksfield, weakly smiling at neighbors who all found her to be very unusual. She would kick at the cobblestones below her feet, and would even see an older man at one corner every day. She didn't recognize him as anyone in the town, though when she tried to walk over and say hello, a passing car or a subtle distraction would cross her vision and he would vanish. She already knew who he was, though she had not yet learned his name.

 

***

 

One day at the beginning of her summer break, there was a knock on the door. Albany and her mother were eating breakfast: eggs, ham, beans, tomatoes... an American and a Half eating half of an English breakfast. Her father was hungover in his bed upstairs, groaning and snoring, tossing back in forth, tucked down by an old patchwork quilt.

Albany and her mother opened the door to find an old man dressed in a strange robe standing at the door. The robe was long and intricate, covering his form more or less entirely, aside from weathered and veiny hands which peeked out from his sides. The robe told a story, it was brimming with movement and life. It reminded Albany of Hadrian's Column, if it could speak and move, however. His eyes twinkled over his pearl rimmed glasses, and he emulated a kind of sweet kindness which immediately filled up Albany’s heart with a sense of adoration and respect. He had a presence about him that was magnetic, and Albany immediately knew that he was highly aware of said magnetism. He was the man she had been seeing.

"I recognize you." she thought, saying this out loud into this man's mind. She saw a smile flicker across his lips as his eyes turned towards hers, grey meeting grey. 

"I knew you would. You're a bright young witch, Albany Olivia Newson." he said this out loud, and Albany didn't have to turn around to see her mother backing up a few feet with her hand on her heart, smiling all the while.

His name was Albus Dumbledore.

He offered her a letter of acceptance into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Her mother cried at this news, perhaps out of a mix of joy and emotional apprehension, but Albany persuaded her that this would be just like her going to university. She would come back in the end, Albany promised her mother. Albus said that there was an available professor at the school who could teacher her some preliminary spells and introduce her to the wizarding world. He warned her that this professor, who was the only one at the school available at the time, was rather odd and intimidating. There was little to nothing that could shock or scare Albany, after all she went through.

"Typically we do not accommodate students in your particular situation, Ms. Newson." Dumbledore said, not sitting at their kitchen table with a cup of tea. "However, we have been watching your magical progress and find that you have natural gifts."

"Why didn't you all come for me earlier then, when I was the right age?" Albany asked.

Dumbledore looked at Albany's mother and grinned.

"Your mother was worried about this jeopardizing your education within the Muggle world. We have been lately prioritizing making accommodations for witches and wizards who come from non-magical families. The Muggle world, the non-magical world, rather, is still your world, and you deserve to be a part of it if you choose to be. Finishing your education early shows patience, drive, and work ethic. You are not too old to catch up to your peers. It will be a lot of hard work, but we believe in your abilities." 

Albany felt proud, and let it show, a smile spreading across her cheeks.

"Similarly, it should not strike you as strange or surprising that we are aware of the incident that took place during your childhood." 

Albany felt her throat tighten, the smile immediately vanishing from her face as well as all traces of color. "The... Incident, you say?"

"Yes. You know, we decided to leave the situation at peace, considering your safety here in Blacksfield and your coming from a non-magical family. We did have some people stay around and watch out for you. You did what you did out of retaliation, not malice."

"What are you referencing to, Mr. Dumbledore?" Albany's mother asked, a hand lightly touching Dumbledore's sleeve. Dumbledore looked briefly at the panic in Albany's eyes before turning again to her mother. "Sometimes magic can cause some harm to animals, sometimes one can hurt oneself. She's had a few scrapes and bruises. We wouldn't want her to make any more when unsupervised. We do the best we can accommodating potential students." This seemed to assuage Albany's mother's growing curiosity. Albany was amazed, in awe.

Albany could feel her breath returning to her lungs, the color returning to her face. She was now forever in debt to Albus Dumbledore.

"I can't believe that you've done all that for her, that you're just _offering_ all those opportunities and experiences to her. She deserves the world, Albus, can I call you Albus? Yes, well she deserves the world. This girl is a special one, and that's not just the magic there. It's all foreign to me and to her father, but my girl can and will do great things in this... this new world!" Albany's mother was absolutely overwhelmed with joy. Dumbledore had to catch her tea cup from all her gleeful gesticulations.

"I don't know anything at all about the wizarding world, Professor. Are there any resources I can use, books, tools... something?" It was an honest question.

"Of course, of course. We don't let students from non-magical backgrounds come in totally unprepared. I will be leaving Albany a collection of books on the history of the wizarding world, Hogwarts, where she will be attending in the fall, and descriptions of wizarding political and social affairs." With a wave of his hand, a pile of books appeared on the counter by the sink.

"I would not advise your father to see these, Albany, nor your mother, though I trust she can be aware of them. They are for you, for you alone. This is a world that is kept secret from this one, and it is essential for you to realize that and to protect those around you. Is that understood?" Dumbledore said, leaning forward across the table towards Albany, one eyebrow arched, awaiting her response. Albany's mother sat back, totally resigned.

"Of course. I will." she replied.

"Wonderful. Now, in terms of catching you up with the material and acquainting you with the wizarding world, I have asked a professor who, as you shall see, may not be the most  _willing_ to work with an untrained witch, but is currently in the process of demonstrating to me that he deserves a particular position. Do forgive his behavior, as sometimes he can be a bit  _ungiving_." Dumbledore chuckled, and stood up, magically clearing his cup and plate.

"I look forward to your arrival in the fall, Ms. Newson. Do stay in touch if there are any questions or concerns you may have." With a bow, he gently closed the front door and disappeared entirely.

"I want to see who this tutor is." Albany's mother said before laughing and playfully slapping a nervous Albany with a dishtowel. 

"Oh, and don't tell your father about this, Albany. Not until you're already gone. I'll deal with him then. I don't want you to have another thing on your mind." Her mother embraced her in her arms, pressing her cheek close, breathing in her smell, before giving her a big kiss on the cheek and going upstairs to sober up her husband.

 

***

 

She sat at the table in the warm kitchen one June afternoon, reading Dostoevsky in her right hand, just as obsessively as she normally would during the summer season, and 'A History Of Magic' in the other, which was a fairly new addition to her literary prowess, before hearing a distinct, yet hesitant, knock on the door. One knock. Pause. Two quick knocks.

No one else was home, and they rarely received visitors. She knew that this would be her tutor, and she only knew of his name and the position he taught at Hogwarts. Well, and a warning about his rather distinct personality. 

_Severus Snape._

She opened the door to see a tall man with dark, brooding eyes and raven black hair standing before her. His face was etched into what appeared to be a semi-permanent scowl, his skin was somewhat prune and looked distinctly cold, quite sepulchral, in fact. She gulped, crouched in his shadow. He was far taller than her, even though she considered herself to be above average, just in the slightest.

“You are Miss Newsom, I presume?” he said in a low, nasal tone that sent shivers down Albany’s spine. There was no discernible emotion to the statement. His eyes barely met hers, instead they were gracing every surface of her simple abode, slightly repulsed, but more blasé. 

“Yes,” she said tentatively. “And you are?”

"I'm afraid that you have already been informed as to who I am, Ms. Newson. And as we both already know, I was sent here by Dumbledore to assist a student with great ‘potential’, as he calls it, though, in fact, I am here entirely to satisfy the will of a man with great power over me. Do not consider yourself to be ‘special’, or ‘worthy’ of my time and attention. You must remind yourself that I am here on special orders, not of my own volition. Do. I. Make. My. Self. Clear?”

For her first real interaction with the wizard, all did not seem to be particularly promising. She looked back towards his black eyes, which were cold and unfeeling, and tried to look in, a habit she had grown accustomed to doing on most people she met. However, there was a steel door. A steel wall, perhaps? Steel. Unyielding. She had been prevented from looking in.

"Interesting." he muttered in his crawling baritone, sending nervous shivers down Albany's back. "You and I may just have something in common. An interest, I mean. Not that it would make these lessons any more bearable for me." 

His eyes barely looked down at her, seemingly scanning the house above her head and scrutinizing it, as though repulsed by its coziness and lack of tidiness. He presumed this would be another chore of Dumbledore’s which he wanted to finish as soon as possible, though it was most interesting that this girl was already a fairly proficient legilimens, despite her complete lack of training. Although he was dreading working even more months out of the year as a teacher, he couldn't help but concede that this student was, indeed, quite unique. This did not mean that he would be easy on her nor would treat her any kinder than his other irritating pupils. 

He turned on his heels, beckoning for her to follow him, hoping that the billowing of his robes would intimidate her just enough to ensure that she would not pursue any more lessons... or perhaps just questions. Her talents as a legilimens, as demonstrated by their very first interaction, had caught his attention. Otherwise, he made efforts to not take notice of the girl in many other aspects. She was just another student, unimportant in the long run. He did not wish to preoccupy himself with her all too much. He promised to not show her any more favor than other students despite having spent a significant amount of time with her over this summer. 

Reluctantly, Albany put on some sandals and a light jacket before following him out into the field, past the plot where her neighbor's house once stood. Her heart was racing, curious as to what was to occur. Snape stood out in the sunny English field, surveying the area with nothing but disgust and repulsion. She could tell he truly hated being here, and she wondered how well her summer tutoring would go… or if it would go at all. 

Albany worried that all wizards were like this, and she could feel a knot forming in her throat. She felt as though she wanted to cry, to go back inside, to go into her room and lock the door. Her breath was quickening and she surveyed the man whose back was to her, cloak blowing softly in the breeze, arms tightly embraced by an abundance of buttons, the bottoms of his slacks as well. His hair was lank and jet-black, slightly blowing in the breeze. His nose was quite the distinct feature, standing out from the rest of his face but somehow complementing it. He certainly was a most interesting sight to behold, she thought. In some ways, he kind of took her breath away. She had never before seen anyone look like this man before. Was this is a magical phenomenon, or was he simply a unique man? Perhaps both?

He was holding out his arm while looking away into the distance, dark robes billowing in the increasing wind. She didn’t quite know what to do. Were they going to ballroom dance? Albany found herself chuckling at the thought, and then out loud, Snape raising a dark brow towards her with obvious consternation.

“Take my arm.” he ordered brusquely.

 

***

 

Hurriedly, she rushed over and grasped his arm, terrified at what potential scorn she could receive, but nonetheless curious as to the type of fabric a man such as this would wear. Immediately, there was a swarm of chaos and simultaneous nothingness. Albany felt sick to her stomach. The world blurred, all seemed to fall into chaos, and she no longer felt her physical self existing in the world. She was nothingness, she was the wind and she was the act of travel. The only sense of contact, of grounding, and of presence she could gather was that of the man who was leading her through this newfound chaos and simultaneous nothingness.

Suddenly, the two of them were standing in an alleyway filled with strange shops and strangely-dressed people. Albany suddenly felt very sick, and reached for the closest thing she could find, a small pewter cauldron, proceeded to vomit all of her tea and sandwiches from her lunch that day. She could hear an exasperated sigh from Snape.

“Are you finished?” Snape asked once her hacks and moans had subsided, rolling his eyes at her obvious misery, making a very pointed effort to avert his gaze.

“I’m sorry… what was that? That thing, that we just did?” Albany was at a complete loss for words. Her legs shook and her mind felt like it had turned to jelly. She tried to grab onto something to brace herself, but found her hands grasping at the edges of a particularly yucky cauldron, and she jerked upright and nearly fell into Snape again. He made an effort to demonstrate his distaste as he shifted even further away.

“That particular phenomenon is referred to as Apparition and Disapparition. You may learn it eventually, if you prove to have any decent talent for magic, which is debatable, as of now. Now, I will be waiting at the end of the alley for you. Might as well get a wand before I can begin to instruct you, so you can begin to catch up with others your age and prove why Dumbledore believes you should be sorted alongside other fourth years. Now hurry off, before I get bored and leave you here." What a cheery guy.

"But... where do I go? How do I pay for any of this? I mean, I read about Gringott's and wizarding currency, but I definitely don't have any of that, and to make matters worse, even my Muggle parents have hardly any money at all so..."

“Given that you are Muggle-Born,” he said with a snide tone to his voice which Albany didn’t like, “You are on a scholarship, lucky you, and your supplies and robes will be provided for you. You will find them in your dorm when you arrive. Nothing too extravagant, however. I believe that builds character. Not having luxury is something that many regard as character-building, so I believe.” There was something truthful to his tone, and it did admittedly pique Albany's interest. She tried again to creep inside his mind, to piece together this bit of information, this little spark of personality, but she couldn't get past his walls. She noticed that he was frowning at her. She cleared her throat and tried to change topic.

“Muggle-Born? What does that mean? Where did that word even come from to begin with? It honestly sounds quite silly to me. Almost like a joke word, but, hey, a lot of these 'wizarding words' sound like something out of some delirious fairy tale. What else could I have expected, honestly?” She tried to laugh casually, but her attempt at small talk was met with cold silence.

“Quite simply, it means you are descended from non-magic folk. Like your family. We call them ‘Muggles’. They possess no magic and live in a world entirely separate from our own. They likely will never fully understand you.” Snape said that last part with a unique kind of disdain. Albany swore she could see a bit of sadness in his eyes, and genuinely wanted to know more about his sentiments for Muggles. Before she could inquire or attempt to look into his mind once more, he walked off rather suddenly into a darkened alley, and Albany was left standing there, feeling sick and absolutely dumbfounded.

Approaching the nearest person she could, she asked, with a desperate tone to her voice, “Where can I get a wand?” The woman gave her the funniest look.

“Who broke yours, sweetie? That’s a real shame when that happens. Painfully inconvenient...” she said. Albany stared back at her with a blank look. “Haven’t you been to Ollivander’s before, dear?”

“Ollivander’s… Okay, thank you.” Albany ran off, looking at the shop signs desperately before finding said shop.

She walked in, and a little bell rang as the creaky old door, in need of a repair, opened. An older man with hypnotizing eyes and wild grey hair appeared at the counter, and Albany was almost taken aback by how ethereal and ancient this man seemed to be. She was in complete awe of him, and immediately knew that he demanded her utmost respect and admiration. The scent of the shop filled her nostrils, giving her a sense of belonging. It smelled like musk and wood and lovely old people; it was like this store and its characters, the wands that resided within, were her surrogate grandparents. She looked up to see Ollivander smiling brightly down at her, a look of excitement in his eyes.

“Are you Albany Olivia Newsom? Oh, you are quite the special case indeed. Dumbledore has told me all about you." Ollivander said with a slight grin.

"Oh, he has? Good things, I hope." Albany said. Ollivander laughed, his laugh slightly strained and dusty in tone.

"Indeed. Always good things from Albus. He cares very much for his new students, especially those in unique situations such as yourself. Coming from a non-wizarding family is difficult, much less joining a new school halfway through the curriculum. We want a wand for you which will suit you and serve you well, Miss Newson." Ollivander chirped. Albany smiled.

"It’s very rare for a witch to start Hogwarts so late while with others her age. I have already made some estimates as to your wand, as I have been preparing your arrival. You are a rather special student, I’ve been told. I can already see there is a heart underneath all that wit and charm… perhaps beech with unicorn core, 10 and a half inches, pliable?”

Albany was stunned by the aesthetic beauty of the wand. The wood was clean and crisp, with a smooth shiny exterior. It was slick and sheen as could be, and Albany found her fingers simultaneously itching to grasp its handle, while overwhelmed with a strange tickling feeling of reluctancy.

She was absolutely excited. However, with a flick of the wand, she was propelled backwards so that she nearly slammed into the entrance door to the shop.

  
“That… that will not do.” Ollivander said, obviously trying to repress a chuckle.

“Let’s try again. How about redwood with dragon heartstring, 11 and three quarter inches, brittle, perhaps? There is a chance you have more of fight in you than others would give you credit for. I see a retaliator, one prone to adventure and to seeing new places, to enjoying new people, to confiding in your own future and potential. You're quite the cunning one, indeed.” He handed her the wand, and once again she was incredibly excited. This wand was made of twisting, coiling, bright red wood, and she found it to be quite pretty, indeed.

No, this one was wrong as well. Papers flew around the room with the slightest swish, and boxes of wand fell off the shops onto the poor old man. Albany found herself growing frustrated.

"Is this normal?" she asked him.

"Of course, of course. Some people are difficult to discern..." Ollivander then felt it, that invasion of legilimency. This girl was a legilimens... how interesting.

"Miss Newson, may I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Do you have visions, do you see prophecies? Can you... can you hear voices throughout the day, throughout the night?" She did not answer. "I see, you do. I have to think for a moment." He disappeared into the back of the shop, leaving Albany to wait at the counter for several moments before he returned.

“I’ve got it! Phoenix with silver lime… 12 and a quarter inches… slightly springy…”

This third wand had a slight bend to it, and the color was rather unique. It was the color of cream, perhaps comparable to the worn parts of the Taj Mahal, etched with strange lines and vines. The wand seemed to emit a slight, pearlescent glow, nearly taking on purple hues in the right lights. It was indeed a very aesthetically pretty wand, in accordance to the history of silver lime wood. 

The moment she grasped the wand there was a glow all around her. She felt a warm sensation fill her, and she smiled.

“This wand is absolutely beautiful. It just… feels absolutely right. I… I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Ollivander, sir.” Her cheeks practically hurt from smiling. She grasped her wand so tightly that the color drained from her knuckles. 

“Perfect. It’s my honor, Ms. Newson. It’s on the house, Dumbledore has already discussed your situation. You know, silver lime is a rather picky wood type. They’re highly fashionable, indeed. Very popular back in the 19th century. There's much debate over its compatibility with Seers, and whether it grants said ability. I am highly dubious of that. Combined with a phoenix feather core… you are an interesting character, Miss Newsom. You may find yourself divining and performing legillimency… Two rather astounding feats that many witches and wizards are envious of. Work hard to control your magic, and study to catch up with your peers. I have faith in you. I wish you the best with your studies, I feel already that you have great potential. Be careful.” His genuine nature was telling.

Albany did not know how to interpret his final words, nor did she really know where to put her wand. She decided on putting it in the inside pocket of her light rain jacket, hoping that it wouldn't break. The thought of breaking her lovely wand absolutely terrified her, bringing on a rather aggravating nervous sweat.

Albany returned to the alleyway, thinking only of how she could protect her precious wand at all costs, nearly bumping into Snape, who seemed to be waiting for her in front of Ollivander's, despite his earlier disappearance. She immediately drew her wand and laid it across her palms, glancing down at it and then up at Snape, silently asking for his opinion. She  _wanted_ his  _opinion_. Odd.

He glanced at her wand, and was immediately struck by its odd appearance. Such wands were odd, and he hadn't really taken the time to consider the incoming student before him. He wondered about its composition, wondered about its core. He had a brief flashback to his third year, in which he began to wear all black outside of his school uniform, throwing away his mother's old blouses which she would hem and repair before giving to her son. They had nothing else, and boy oh boy, was he the object of such ridicule back in Cokeworth. He had decided to go to Ollivander's and ask him to make his wand black, tired of the light brown it was. It made him feel...  _unspecial_. Sure, his wood was cedar, but he wanted to really honor that nomenclature. Ollivander reluctantly agreed to see what he could do, and a young Severus spent his meagre savings from helping mop up after hours in The Three Broomsticks. What did it matter that he wouldn't be able to buy any butter beers like the other students for the rest of the year?

Growing ever more lost in his memories, he slowly glanced up to her, meeting her eyes for the first time, and was hit with a bit of a nervous shock. She looked… so much like Lily, without those sparkling green eyes. Well, those were rare after all. He was sure there would never truly be another pair like hers. Well, aside from what he had heard about the boy, who he wasn't particularly looking forward to seeing. Her gaze was unrelenting, and this was alarming. He found eye contact to be an incredibly high-pressure experience. He would wield this pressure, this force, over his students to demand their compliance, but there were few who dared to look into his eyes without a sense of fear. Sure, he could sense her trepidation, her hesitation, her desire to not  _offend_. If only she were a more polite legilimens... perhaps he could teach her about... no. None of this.

She had her hair, albeit a bit curlier. The demeanor was similar… the Muggle parents… the  _mudblood_ status. There was an unfortunate cunning aura, a sly smile frequently donning her pouty lips.  _Please, don't put her in Slytherin..._

Albany found him to be rather hypnotizing to her as well. The air of darkness, the crooked nose, the odd... demeanor. There was no other word for it. He seemed somewhat handsome to her, in a rather unconventional way. His brusque nature and rude words hardly phased her, if anything, they reminded her of her father’s after a particularly busy day at Oxford. She had so many questions to ask him, though she predicted that he would be reluctant, or would downright refuse to answer her.

Snape coughed in order to clear this sudden strange silence.

“Let’s return to Blacksfield. I’m going to teach you some basic spells. Hopefully they’re not too difficult for you.” he gruffed, reluctantly holding out his arm again.

She touched in gingerly, and before she knew it, they had returned to Blacksfield. She did not vomit this time, instead, he embraced the sweet air and the lack of Diagon Alley chaos. All felt right in the world, all felt peaceful. All this would be interrupted by a ‘ _hrrummpff_ ” and an impatient cough.

“Take out your wand. We will start with the simplest of spells.”

 

***

 

Severus Tobias Snape was born on the 9th of January, 1960. He had grown up in the dimness of Cokeworth on Spinner's End, almost guaranteeing a morose existence even before he was born. His mother, Eileen Prince, was a witch who had abandoned her family after becoming completely enamored with Tobias Snape, a Muggle and former poet. Well, he had been quite the charmer when Eileen met him a few years after she had graduated from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She was young, vulnerable, having lost both her parents during the war to the camps and to mysterious yet suspicious circumstances. Tobias had been exactly what she wanted. He was charming, young, full of virility and passion. However, at times he would become a bit too passionate. He was quite controlling of Eileen, insisting, demanding, during the beginning of their relationship, that she stay by his side nearly at all times. It was rather soon that he asked her to move in with him, in the house in a not particularly nice town, in a not particularly nice neighborhood. It had been his parents' house, and they had died a few months before Eileen and Tobias moved in. 

Eileen was 31 when she had their first and only child after years and years of trying. She knew that Tobias had been spending most of his time visiting local whorehouses, and suspected that there were numerous spawns of her husband wandering around the town. He had also taken up drinking, and one night he cost Eileen her pregnancy after he had gotten a bit too worked up over the disrepair of Spinner's End. There wasn't much Eileen could do about the leaking roof or the broken stairwell banister. He had broken her wand after discovering she was a witch. He hadn't exactly told her why. Eileen suspected that it had to do with keeping her under his control. He needed to maintain power over her.

Oh, if only she had access to the prenatal potions she knew that most witches used. Or the sedatives. It was a difficult pregnancy. She was in constant agony, her cravings were unfulfilled as they had little to no money, she was vomiting up the little food she had. Her husband would occasionally stroke her back or hold her hair out of her face as she puked. She craved these little moments, these tiny hints of intimacy, of care. Her own parents cared for her, once upon a time. 

Hogwarts... Hogwarts had saved her from the war. She would be damned in her child didn't get a chance to go. He or she could leave this shit hole of a town and have a future. He or she could escape, could learn more about a world beyond Cokeworth. 

She had loved Hogwarts when she attended. Playing gobstones with friends, socializing in Hogsmeade, making up jinxes and hexes with her friends. All that seemed far in the past. Where were her friends now? She was sure they had entirely forgotten about her. No one had looked for her, no one had bothered to try to find her after graduation. It was just Tobias who offered her a home, offered her love and affection.

He was passionate, sometimes far too passionate. He had even cost her two separate pregnancies already, although she would never blame him for it out loud. Otherwise, she knew she would receive even more blows.

He had cost her a pregnancy when he found out she was a Jew. It had slipped one night during dinner, and before she knew it she was lying on the linoleum floor of the kitchen, a small pool of blood in her peripheral vision as he beat her with a hammer he grabbed from the supply closet, beating her over and over again, his hits relentless, her magic too weak and suppressed to combat it.

He then took a knife, and began to carve something into her arm... she swore it could have been the star of David... before managed to pushed him off, albeit rather gently, making him all the angrier. She looked down to find a great pool of blood forming between her legs. More blood dripped down her forehead where he had slammed it down on the kitchen floor.

"What... Tobias! What are you doing?" she yelled, completely shocked by the horrible pain in her abdomen and the sickening sight of gore.

"Eileen! Look what you made me do!" Tobias yelled, gesturing towards the bits of coagulated blood on the cold linoleum. "We'll have to try again, now. I'm going to get my son, Eileen."

"We'll try again, love. We'll try again..."

"You tricked me, you know. You tricked me into marrying a Jew."

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry!"

"You know I only did this to remind you that you're a Jew and a whore, do you understand?"

"I... Please, don't kill me..." she said in between a sudden surge of sobs.

"I'm not gonna kill you, Eileen. You're my wife and we will have our son. He might be a Jew, but at least he won't pass it on. That’s the rule, after all, right?"

"Okay... Okay... We will have a son... I promise!"

"Now clean that up, I'm going to the pub." Tobias sneered, gesturing to the floor before slamming the front door on his way out. “I do all this because I love you, Eileen. You know that I love you.”

Eileen began to cry piteously before standing up on shaking feet and retrieving the mop. She cleaned the kitchen before she gathered herself up, practically crawling up the stairs towards the bathroom, where she threw off her soiled clothes and sunk deep into the tub, whose water promptly turned red (as though she had the strength to even care at this point), closing her eyes and praying, praying, praying for a son.

 

***

 

He was in his study, preparing for yet another year of dealing with insufferable brats, when there appeared a brilliant phoenix patronus which flew directly onto his desk. It would have spilled ink on his precious papers, though thankfully it wasn't any physical manifestation. Otherwise, Severus would have completely lost his shit.

He had been having a particularly bad day, but what else was new? He had spent his entire morning tediously sorting through ingredients and sending out owls upon owls to suppliers in Diagon Alley. _How hard is it for these bastards to ship out one single supply when requested? Motherfuckers._

"You are requested in my office, Severus. Please be punctual, though I know you are quite busy." the patronus uttered in Dumbledore's voice before sailing out of Severus's office.

Severus sighed and finished his last sentence on the page before standing up, putting on his most dramatic black robe, and hurrying upstairs towards Dumbledore's office.

He knew Albus's demands would continue to grow more and more demanding. He had signed up for this, after all, all to absolve Lily's death. That was all he wanted in this world... it was to somehow rectify his soul and to pledge his forgiveness... somehow... 

She hadn't forgiven him for his crude words when they were in school, so why should she forgive him now, all from her grave? He would ask himself this very question over and over again, wondering whether this all was a completely futile gesture. Sure, in the wizarding world there were ways to communicate with the dead in some form. Sure, he could have tried to do it. He could have spoken to her. However, he knew that James would be right by her side. 

He couldn't face her with James. All his years of ridicule would happen all over again. She would stand by him, his  _tormenter_ , and all the memories of their cruelty would come flooding back. Sometimes he just wanted to die, to speak with Lily in some capacity, to tell her that he had done everything for her. He had tried to protect her, he had given his heart away, and now he was all alone. He was destined to die alone. At least, he expected this, after all.

He arrived in Dumbledore's office, muttering the passcode "appletons" before mounting the spiral staircase which twisted up towards Dumbledore's magical little micro-world. 

"Good afternoon, Severus. I hope all is well." Dumbledore remarked, looking up from his own papers.

"As decent as it could ever be." Severus mumbled, approaching Dumbledore's desk. "You called for me?"

"Yes, indeed I did. Trelawney has given me some interesting information, to say the least."

Severus immediately grew tense, as he was particularly resentful of Trelawney after the incidents of 7 years past.

"It is not a prophecy of great significance to our cause, per se, though I would think that it would interest you in some way."

"Does it have anything to do with... you know..."

"Not... exactly. There is a young Seer who will be coming to Hogwarts, Severus. The prophecy mentioned you and this Seer working in cohorts towards a common goal. Personally, I believe this may have something to do with what is to come. It is looking grim for us, Severus. Any Seer coming to Hogwarts will prove most useful towards predicting... important events."

"I am sure the prophecy didn't mention me, Albus." Severus muttered.

"You know how dangerous Seers can be, Severus. After what happened years ago."

Of course he would bring this up.

"There is a young Seer whose family has been refusing to admit her to our school for some time." 

"Why would anyone ever refuse their spawn an education at the finest institution for magical studies? Her parents must be complete blithering idiots." Severus said, his temper flailing. He'd be damned if Tobias would have ever stopped him from going to Hogwarts. 

"Well, her parents are muggles, you see." Dumbledore said curtly.

"You've given them too much liberty." Severus sneered.

"Well, we need her here as soon as possible. What, with Harry Potter on his way..."

Severus froze. He had been trying for weeks to stop thinking about the Boy Who Lived, but hadn't quite been able to get him out of his head. That blasted child... he couldn't even begin to know what he'd do what that  _thing_ in his class.

"What about Harry Potter?" he snarled.

"We will place her with the fourth years, so she will be set to graduate before Potter's arrival. We will glean as much as we can from her, whatever we can, and help out a Muggle-Born in the process. Why not?" Dumbledore said, that signature twinkle in his eye and mischievous grin on his face that Severus had lately gotten rather sick of.

"So what do you request of me, then?" Severus inquired.

"The prophecy simply spoke of a Prince, Severus, guiding a Seer. We both know these implications. You will go to her and provide basic tutoring in order to catch her up on magic before entering school with the other fourth years."

"I'd really rather not do that, sir. Is there anyone,  _anyone_ , else who would begrudgingly take on this obligation?" he droned. He was not at all looking forward to doing even more teaching on the few months where he wasn't forced to do any.

"Trelawney does have some rather... potent... prophecies... sometimes... now doesn't she?" This almost felt like a threat.

"I'll be...  _punctual_. It will likely prove to be a complete waste of my and your time. I will reluctantly participate." Severus said.

"Oh, I've always appreciated your brutal honesty, Severus." Dumbledore remarked, implying that this conversation was over.

_I'm always told what to do. I couldn't even be autonomous if you let me... damn._

 

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THERE'S THE FINALIZED FIRST CHAPTER! I had so much fun writing this, honestly.
> 
> Albany: Alba. Latin. White. Purity? Hypocritical, you'll see.
> 
> Severus: Stern. Latin. What could his parents had wanted for him to be given such a name?
> 
> Although it's never discussed in canon whether Eileen Prince is Jewish, I assumed she was because Eileen is a very popular Jewish name for girls and Prince has Ashkenazi Jewish origins. Here's an excerpt from Ancestry's analysis of the name:
> 
> "English and French: nickname from Middle English, Old French prince (Latin princeps), presumably denoting someone who behaved in a regal manner or who had won the title in some contest of skill. Translation of German and Ashkenazic Jewish Prinz or of a word meaning ‘prince’ in some other language."
> 
> ~now onto the wands~
> 
> Yes, I'll admit, this is my own personal wand, Albany is very much like me (hence the Snape love, of course). I've also just grown up in a very spiritual home where my mother and I have fun with crystals, crystal balls, sage, and tarot cards. I do tarot card readings around my dorm for my friends and for anyone who wants to drop by my room. They seem to like it... :)
> 
> ***I know that Snape's wand isn't confirmed anywhere, but based on my own research I would assume it is cedar with dragon heartstring. Cedar is fitting, primarily based on the description itself:
> 
> "Whenever I meet one who carries a cedar wand, I find strength of character and unusual loyalty. My father, Gervaise Ollivander, used always to say, ‘you will never fool the cedar carrier,’ and I agree: the cedar wand finds its perfect home where there is perspicacity and perception. I would go further than my father, however, in saying that I have never yet met the owner of a cedar wand whom I would care to cross, especially if harm is done to those of whom they are fond. The witch or wizard who is well-matched with cedar carries the potential to be a frightening adversary, which often comes as a shock to those who have thoughtlessly challenged them."
> 
> Snape is perhaps one of the most loyal and secretly passionate characters in any form of literature that I have ever encountered.
> 
> I also assumed dragon heartstring since those wands are highly influenced by dark magic, and usually have a proclivity towards it. They are also easily assuaged, which makes sense considering that Severus has always been so... indecisive... about where his loyalties lie.
> 
> I also love the idea of a disenchanted teenage Severus wanting to make his wand totally all-black. Just... the sheer angst of it all! He definitely was an angsty little dude his third year. It also just kinds of ensures that there are other possibilities with his wand based on the color in the films (though even those aren't entirely 'canon'). Cedar seems so appropriate, in my humble opinion.
> 
> Other possible wand woods: silver lime (although he is not at all a Seer, despite being a gifted legilimens), black walnut (he seems very honest with himself, perhaps painfully so... also the color thing), ebony (due to the jet-black color, although being gifted in transfiguration doesn't quite match, despite the fact that he is probably pretty adept at it), blackthorn (getting through hardship)...
> 
> The Eileen/Tobias dynamic is something I want to continue to explore. Although a lot of their relationship is implied, there definitely was abuse in that household. It is really sad... but explains much of Severus's personality and outlook on life.
> 
> ...
> 
> I wanted to compile a playlist of songs which fit the mood of each chapter. As an avid music lover, this was pretty much a must from when I first started working on this story. 
> 
> Here are some atmospheric tunes:
> 
> 1\. Leaving The Docks (from The Secret Garden 1991 film): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fSINP4qCzao
> 
> 2\. Galatea's Guitar (Gabor Szabo - Dreams): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TZp_nGMj6GE
> 
> 3\. We Didn't Start the Fire (Billy Joel): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eFTLKWw542g
> 
> 4\. Here With Me (Dido): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PSu5nAQ7uZw
> 
> 5\. Just Like Arcadia (Psychic TV): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0BHe-N88pXc
> 
>  
> 
> Yes... I know I have a bit of a weird taste in music...
> 
> SPOTIFY PLAYLIST: https://open.spotify.com/user/mooniemoe/playlist/1BftWaSHedV8PHnvuicKXB?si=LKrxiuVEQ165ytubpi2V2w


	2. Wingardium Leviosa et. al

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albany learns how to use her pearlescent, odd wand. Her training begins before entering Hogwarts with the fourth years. However... she has to cope with a rather unconventional tutor with a difficult past...

 

*** 

 

There was indeed something captivating about Severus Snape, the wizard who stood before her, wand at hand, a sneer of disdain lining his cold face. She found herself absolutely intrigued by him. He reminded her of the narrator in Dostoevsky's _Notes From The Underground_ , perhaps, or the bug from Kafka’s _The Metamorphosis_. He was marked by a kind of cruel disdain, and Albany instinctively knew that this man had suffered much pain throughout his life. He was frightening, however, and Albany knew that he would be a force to be reckoned with once she began classes under his tutelage in a formal academic setting. Here, perhaps, she was seeing him at his most relaxed, which was extremely telling.

He was incredibly powerful as well, and with a flick of his wrist and an expression of sheer intolerance he would correct and demonstrate spells that she had only previously dreamed of performing. All was coming true to her, and she felt honored and a bit giddy to even be living this new life that she was leading. All this was far more exciting than the prospect of going to Oxford and toiling away with boring Muggle affairs.

Albany also considered wizards to already be far more dynamic than most ‘normal people’ she had grown up around. That is, with the exception of her parents, whom she regarded as lovely complex dynamic protagonists in their own right. There was something particularly intriguing about this Severus fellow, as aforementioned. There was something dark and cruel about him, sure. This was evident due to his constant verbal abuse she faced everyday during their summer lessons. He was generally quite ruthless in reminding her of her general inferiority and of her inexperience with magic and the wizarding world in general. She couldn't quite get access to his mind, and wondered where his resentment of Muggles and Muggle-Borns, as they were called, could have come from. How was a man such as this, who clearly had some discriminatory beliefs, allowed to teach at an institution which prized itself on its diversity?  _This is certainly a new definition of diversity..._ Albany thought to herself. Surprisingly enough, race, ethnicity, and country of origin were not held on the lofty pedestals that they were in the non-magic world. Albany found this fascinating, though she would have considered it more liberating if she didn't feel so out of place as a Muggle-Born before even arriving at this damn school.

She wondered why this brooding man would agree to even cater to an untrained witch’s needs. This certainly made her ponder the extent of this Dumbledore man’s power. Severus seemed to be doing this man a favor by helping out this silly Muggle-Born with a propensity for strange and unpredictable magic. She had run from this part of herself, and now that it had been embraced by strange men and women wearing robes, sometimes with far too many buttons… Why did he wear so many buttons? Did he get his clothes specially tailored? Albany didn't even want to begin to think about what the neighbors would think if they could see this man in all his billowing glory. Fortunately for them, he used what he called a 'Disillusionment Charm' to keep Muggles at bay. Admittedly, being seen with a towering man in black robes would have been a bit embarrassing for her. She wasn't quite up to the task of explaining to her rather conservative neighbors how she was spending her summer.

She was ashamed of the fact that, when she touched herself late at night, as she had begun to do, Severus's dark eyes flashed through her consciousness. She often found herself staring at his long, lithe, calloused hands. She knew that he taught potions, and imagined him toiling away in the darkness of some room filled with all the ingredients of Macbeth’s witches’ brew: double double toil and trouble, indeed. She was tempted to ask him if he ever used eye of newt, toad of frog, wing and bat and tongue of dog… However, she got the sense that he would understand the reference and scold her in some way.

 _Wingardium leviosa_ had been her first spell, and oh, the bliss of successful magic was almost too much for Albany. She basically squealed in delight when she successfully lifted a single pebble in the air. Severus tried to repress an eye roll.

_Such petty magic..._

He did admit to himself, in a tiny little voice in the back of his mind, that he enjoyed her excitement. It reminded him of his own discovery of his magic at a young age, and he then felt the same sense of giddy joy when he showed Lily how to levitate objects for the first time. Oh, how she loved that, and how her bright laugh enveloped him, playing out in the woods outside of dank Cokeworth.

"I've been doing this since I was a little kid. It's different channeling it through a... through a piece of wood." Albany chuckled. Severus was silent. She assumed that he was unamused.

"What kind of magic have you demonstrated without your wand?" he asked, surprisingly politely.

"I have levitated objects, made flowers grow. I sometimes talk to animals, I can... I can catch things on fire. I can make things disappear. I can... I experience prophecies, sir."

This was interesting, indeed.

"Silver lime, is it? Always the wand of Seers, I have heard."

Albany was amazed at this somewhat colloquial exchange. She got a bit heady, speaking with confidence and standing on her tiptoes without being entirely aware of it.

"I knew about Hogwarts long before I could put a name to it. That's the thing about my visions. They are pictures but there aren't any words that go along with them, or, rather, words are rare and hard to articulate. There are just images and patterns, and I know deep in my heart what is going to happen. I've seen you, as well."

She suddenly knew she had pushed the conversation too far. They resumed to their work, Severus quizzing her on the ingredients for the Wiggenweld Potion, which took her some thinking. He sighed, a bit exasperated at the fact that he knew this witch would struggle with potions, but likely do fairly well in all other subjects. Of course, he strangely relished in the idea that he could put this little Seer in her place in his class. He did not ever teach her any hands-on potions work, neglecting the pewter cauldron which was sitting adjacent to her trunk in her attic bedroom, eagerly anticipating its use. She had asked him once about trying to make potions, but he simply didn't reply and she was too nervous to try to ask again. Wasn't he supposed to be a potions master?

This frustrated her, but she put together the pieces and was able to determine that he simply didn't want to show favorites. He was growing to like her, to respect her abilities and how quickly she was catching up with her peers. He was impressed by her endurance and her adaptability. He adored her eagerness to learn, it excited him, and, in many ways, she reminded him of what he was like at that age. He was hungry for knowledge, simply insatiable. However, she was far more gifted in the social graces than he ever was, or ever could be.

  
Learning _incendio_ had been a revelation, but certainly one marked by intense fear. Albany could feel the beads of sweat forming on her forehead as she raised her wand, the pearlescent piece of wood shaking. She could see a stormy judgment in this Severus fellow’s eyes as he quickly conjured up a dummy of sorts. They had been using dummies to practice dueling spells, though she didn't take much pleasure in dueling, it seemed. There wasn't really a violent bone in her body. Sure, she could defend herself and she would get upset over things in her right to get upset about. However, her dueling skills were, admittedly, very average. This frustrated her, and Severus did secretly wish to console her, but had to keep up his stern, taciturn persona. As always.

  
“Cast the spell.” he commanded her, intentionally drifting his eyes away from the stammering girl before him, trying to occupy himself with looking at something in the distance, though there was little to nothing in Blacksfield except never-ending fields. What was it he was looking at so intently? Why couldn't he watch her stumble and fail, as he usually relished in doing with other students back at Hogwarts? Something was different.

When she didn’t cast the spell, her wand continuing to shake, he became rather frustrated. Why was she one to make everything so difficult?

“Cast. The. Spell.” He said, his voice droning and hoarse, with a slight vibrato due to a startling new anger. He could feel his fists clenching. He suddenly felt a strange urge to stupefy her, to remind her of her place, to show her her true insignificance in the greater scope of the world. He wanted to shove her down into the grass, as James and his Marauders had done so many times. Wait. What? What was getting into him?

“I am afraid of fire. Can we review _engorgio_ … or maybe _reducio_? What about _expelliarmus_? Anything. Anything else, besides this.” Her voice was trembling. There were tears forming in her eyes. She stopped, quickly wiping her nose and eyes with the back of her hand.

"You claimed that you would catch objects on fire, did you not?" he droned.

"Yes, but there... there was an accident." This piqued Severus's interest.

There was a sudden softness of Severus's voice as he said, “Yes, perhaps.” He then picked up a rock and placed it before her. “Well? Let's start with _depulso_. Then we will review how to block spells. Perhaps we will cover some wordless magic, as you've shown some potential in it. However, only if you prove to not be as lazy as you can sometimes be. Let us begin.”

 

***

 

She did the spells, almost offhandedly, far too impressively for an untrained witch as she was. This continued to alarm Severus, as he had been warned of this witch beforehand by Dumbledore, his suspicion that her Slytherin qualities and her background would not fare well in Hogwarts. He had been genuinely concerned for this girl, and, as a little challenge in Severus's propensity for sympathy, had employed this dark, cold man in helping out a student. His motivations under the spell of Lily Evans would have to be discarded for the moment. However, Severus couldn’t help but thinking of Lily. She was constantly on his mind, a little scratching reminder in the cavernous recesses of his cerebrum... of his own recklessness, his failure, his one great _sin_. He was a man filled with regret. He knew that this young witch had far more in common with him than she would ever admit. 

He saw into her mind. It was not difficult in the slightest. She had killed a man. She had regretted it, but she was a child. He would also do such things back in Cokeworth, though certainly less severely. He had dropped a branch of Lily’s petty sister. He would later come to taunt her over her desire to come to Hogwarts and her lack of magic. He hated that obnoxious girl and her screeching voice, especially, as it would be, her intolerance of Lily’s lovely, stunning magic. Lily’s magic was hypnotizing to watch. She conjured flowers with elegance, she craved purity in the world in a way which warmed his heart. She brought him a sense of home when he grew up in an abusive house with little to nothing consoling him. He had been quite the sorry boy, indeed.

Severus could sense a dark streak in the witch now before him, and it was, admittedly, frightening. Voldemort would adore her, if not for her heritage… There was certainly something magnetic about the girl, though he chose to ignore this thought, pushing it to the back of his well-controlled mind. She would sometimes linger in his mind as he performed his ritualistic maintenance of potions whenever he would visit Hogwarts.

Back in his dim home in Cokeworth, whenever he had the idle time to spend there, dim and drab as it was, he would find himself rereading some of his dusty books on divination. It had been quite some time since he had read these, his interest fairly predominant during his sixth year.

Her wand was evident of a talent in divination, that was for sure. He could see in her mind that she was quite good at predicting events, and she was indeed filled with fear for what was to come in the near future. He was given a glimpse of the future, and secretly found divination fascinating, despite his distinct lack of talent in that subject. Trelawney, that infamous great-great-whatever-granddaughter of so-and-so and other Seers like her have always been a pest. Her stupid prophecy and his impulsiveness ruined his life, left him sad and alone. Seers were... he couldn't quite say. He didn't really understand them, admittedly.

How could a Muggle-Born such as this one have been graced with divination abilities that were already so well-developed? Where had she... Stop. Stop thinking about this girl. Get it out of your head. 

 

***

 

"Tobias, please! Please! Please!" Eileen cried, as Tobias beat his son over and over again with a belt, a lit cigarette hanging out the side of his mouth and an empty glass of brandy sitting on the kitchen table.

It was terrifying how offhandedly he could beat his own child, who sobbed and sobbed with every smack of the faux leather belt. He had been stripped of his clothing in order to ensure that the blows would make direct contact towards thin, pale skin. Tobias soon took the cigarette from his mouth and burned it into the purpling flesh. Severus screamed out in pain, and his mother wrapped her arms around his head, pressing her face into his dark hair and kissing his scalp. Eventually, Tobias released him and walked back into the kitchen to pour himself another glass of brandy.

"The little shit has to learn that it's not his place to whine. He's being a little brat. He has to learn somehow."

Eileen stared at her husband with a look of shock on her face.

"Oh, don't give me that, you bitch. My father was just the same. That's how it's done. You have to toughen 'em up. That's how he'll become a real  _man_!" He slammed down his newly-emptied glass, and headed out, likely to go to the pub and meet his drinking buddies.

"Shhhh... Shhh..." Eileen cooed as she felt her crying 9-year-old son in her arms. "I'm here... I'm here..." She led her son upstairs to his room, which was practically a closet with a bed shoved inside. It was dark and dirty, filled with cobwebs, its walls decorated with chains of coiled papers, a child’s craft activity, and posters and circus stickers. Eileen had attempted to make the room nice for her son. The bed was old and creaked loudly with the slightest of movements. 

Eileen could channel some of her magic secretly, though she was wary to use it too much, to recover from wounds too quickly, so as to arise suspicion. 

She cleaned up some of the blood from her son's split lip and healed it a bit, before kissing the tears on his face and burying him in her arms."

_Ich liebe dich so sehr, Severus. Weißt du, dass? Ich liebe dich über alles..._

"I love you so much, Severus. Do you know that? I love you so much."

Eileen said at a whisper, running her fingers through his tangled hair. Whenever they were alone, she would speak to him in her native tongue. She wanted her son to speak German, the language which she had spoken to formally around her parents at home. Her mother, Şeyda Afet Fedakârlık, was Turkish, and her father, Ezra Prinz, was both of German and Ashkenazi Jewish descent. She had been to the synagogue for lessons on the Torah, and had learned some Hebrew and Yiddish from her father's extensive large Muggle family. Her mother taught her magic, though she was sick and weak for most of her life. She had gone to Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, but couldn't finish due to her health problems. Seyda had moved back to Turkey for some time to live with her parents, though she found herself in Germany, learning how to be a Potioneer in Berlin, where some of the best Potioneers in the world worked. It was there that she met Ezra Prinz, a handsome and charming Muggle shopkeeper, who wooed her with songs and declarations of love. So, Eileen was born. Seyda was too weak to have more than one child.

_Warum hat er das getan?_

"Why did he do that?"

Severus said, reaching for the thin linen covers, stained with his and his mother's blood from previous encounters, and pulling it up and over his almost-naked bruised and bloodied body. 

_Dein Vater gerät manchmal außer Kontrolle, Severus. Er hat viel Stress mit seiner Arbeit, das ist alles. Er liebt uns beide. Er macht alles für uns. Die Dinge werden besser, okay? Er wird bald mehr Geld verdienen und die Dinge werden sich im Haus verbessern, okay?_

"Your father gets out of control sometimes, Severus. He has a lot of stress with his work, that's all. He loves the both of us. He does everything for us. Things will get better, okay? He's going to make more money soon and things will get better around the house, okay?"

Severus nodded, but even then he knew that was a lie.

_Lass mich dir Salbe holen._

"Let me get you some ointment." Eileen said, heading into the bathroom.

Severus rocked himself back and forth, careful not to press on his most recent cigarette burn. It stung like hell. Immediately, he grew nervous about seeing his friend Lily. She would question him again about his bruises, and about the discomfort in his step. She always knew that he was hurting, living in a cycle of near-constant pain and neglect. She never knew how to help him, other than press her warm, small hands against his wounds and make them a bit better, far better than his mother's repressed magic ever could.

The next day, he ran out to their little spot by a great oak tree right outside of town. The air was fresh there, the sun was bright, and all felt peaceful when Severus would go there. He could escape the grey of Spinner's End and imagine he was somewhere entirely different. He would imagine he was living with a nice, beautiful family, and that this grove was his own personal backyard. He was a regular boy, with a loving father, unlike his own.

Soon, Lily appeared, smiling at him, her bright green eyes flashing with excitement at seeing her beloved friend.

"Severus!" she cried, running up to him and giving him a big hug. "What do you want to play today?" she asked him.

She noticed how he winced upon contact, and withdrew, frowning slightly. 

"He hit you again, didn't he?"

Severus didn't respond immediately.

"Yes. It was with a belt. I was whining, he said. All I wanted was something to eat..." he said, tears forming in his eyes.

"Oh, Severus..." Lily began as Severus collapsed on the green grass and began to sob piteously. 

Lily lay down next to him and took him in her arms, just as his mother had done. She sang a little song her mother would play for her and her sister on their cheap stereo, as she always did when Severus showed up battered and bruised in their little magical grove to play with her.

_"Mairzy doats and dozy doats and liddle lamzy divey..._

_A kiddley divey too, wouldn't you?"_

Severus looked at her and smiled before looking back up at the clouds. Lily did so too, staring up, distinguishing shapes, animals, and inanimate objects. They had loved to do this together. This game would never get old.

"I see a pegasus. Severus, are they in the magical world?" Lily asked.

"Yes. All mythical creatures live in the magical world." he replied.

"So... ghosts and mermaids and dragons?"

"They're all there. We'll see them when we get to Hogwarts." he said, turning over to her to look into her green eyes.

"I can't wait, Severus! Only two more years... Do you want to come by our house, Severus? You're so skinny... I know you're hungry." Lily said, looking at the tattered blouse the young boy wore that his mother had given to him. They hadn't the money to buy their young son any clothes his size, much less for boys his age.

"Okay. But can we stay out here a bit longer?" he begged.

"Yes, let's look at some more clouds! That one looks like a rubber duck, don't you think?"

"I'd say it looks more like a sumo wrestler."

Lily laughed. "I think you're right, Severus! Maybe it can be... a rubber duck sumo wrestler!"

"You're crazy, Lily."

"Good. It's good to be a crazy witch!" she said, lifting up her arm and summoning a swarm of dandelions to flutter over their faces and heads.

The two erupted into laughter before falling into a tickling fit, Severus whimpering at some of the lacerations on his back, though he pushed through it just to have this simply childish joy, the kind he could only experience with Lily.

_Why am I having so many flashbacks lately? What is going on? Why has this all started... why?_

 

***

  
Albany had been tempted to invite the dark man inside for a bite to eat, or perhaps some tea. However, the words could not form on her lips. Immediately after her lessons, he would disappear in the blink of the eye without any goodbyes or words of encouragement, much less feedback. 

She headed inside after her final lesson, saying hello to her mother and updating her on her magical process. She would demonstrate some of her spells to her mother, which made her gasp in delight. Albany was relieved Dumbledore and the school had given her special permission to use her wand outside of school, which was apparently forbidden. Although she had made some mistakes in her magic and broken some cutlery, she worked to control her magic and her urges to flail and delight in her abilities too much. A bloated head was the last thing she needed. At least she was aware of this fact. Being self-aware was her salvation, and she knew she was building walls to protect herself from some sort of trauma.

She had spoken to no one other than Severus about her ability to see into the future, simply relaying prophecies to her mother as though she were naturally intuitive. It was admittedly frightening; she could see difficulties for her lying ahead. She could see eyes, thoughts of self-harm, inevitable ostracization. She knew she was going to be sorted into this ‘Slytherin’ house, and although this Snape fellow was the head of this house, she couldn't bring herself to push for any questions. She got the sense that he didn't want her to be in his house, though she couldn't entirely discern the reasons yet. The future did remain a bit blurry, though he she did have some insight into what was to come. 

Severus had curtly explained to her the dynamics of the housing system at Hogwarts, and she truthfully found it oddly segregating that a culture of competition and sabotage was perpetuated at a school filled with impressionable young people. She found this strange, and was actually quite nervous about going to this mysterious school. She could already tell that this Professor Snape fellow was going to prove to be a difficult instructor with little to no mercy on his students. She was unnerved already. He was unnerved already.

"Do you find the competitive nature of the house system to be segregating and gregarious?" she asked him one day.

No one had ever questioned the house system before, not that he could think of.

"It is simply tradition, Miss Newson. Hogwarts is very much steeped in tradition." he replied brusquely. "Now can we return to the task of hand, or will you continue to ask me meaningless questions that are a waste of both of our time?"

"It wouldn't kill you to be polite..." Albany muttered under her breath.

"Excuse me? I didn't quite hear what you said. Perhaps you could... repeat it a bit louder, hm?" he snarled, looking this girl up and down. How dare she? He was going to make sure her time in his class was going to be hell, he was sure of it.

"It wouldn't kill you to be polite to me. If you are like this to other students, at any decent Muggle institution you would be fired on the spot for your rudeness. Do you treat students this way? " she said.

Severus became absolutely infuriated, clenching his pale hands into fists and narrowing his dark eyes at this insolent child.

"I have a suspicion you are kept at this school for reasons outside your control. You don't even like kids, much less teenagers."

How the hell did this girl predict such things? Perhaps she was an intuitive Ravenclaw after all. Ravenclaw had their share of Muggle-Born students. It would certainly be a safe house for her to be a part of.

"You may keep your suspicions to yourself, Miss Newson. Now, we will return to the task of perfecting the disarming spell, before I decide to use... new methods... to put you in your place." he said. His voice almost shook, though he fought for self control. This girl was an absolute menace, though he knew she was speaking the truth. He was a terrible professor, a terrible man, likely soiling her opinion of the wizarding world with his sarcastic yet charmless personality.

" _Expelliarmus_." she cried, effectively disarming Severus, his jet-black wand falling into the grass. 

"Good. Again." he said, reaching down to the grass to pick up his wand.

"Why do you wear the same thing every day? Don't you get bored of that? What is the deal with those buttons, anyways?" she suddenly asked.

_This fucking insolent child..._

"Please cast the spell, Miss Newson." he said through gritted teeth.

"It must take a long time to button up all those buttons."

He was dangerously close to using the Cruciatus Curse on this blasted child. 

_You're just like your father..._

"I apologize if I've offended you, Professor." she said, reading his facial expressions finally. "I won't ask you about your buttons, though I am curious as to what happens when you lose one. It would really throw off the equilibrium of the outfit, I'd imagine."

"Cast. The. Spell. Miss. Newson."

" _Expelliarmus._ " she cried, disarming him yet again. Her technique remained sloppy.

"Again." he said, summoning his wand with wandless and wordless magic this time.

"I want to do that!" she cried out excitedly.

"What exactly are you referring to, Miss Newson?"

"I want to cast spells without speaking. That looks absolutely brilliant. How do you do it?"

"I'm afraid it is a bit too advanced for you as of now. You are very underdeveloped in your magic at this present moment. You require more training..." he began, before she disarmed him silently.

"Nice! That was cool." she cried out, smiling and jumping a few times in the air with joy.

He summoned his wand once more.

"Sloppy and weak. It still requires practice."

Albany frowned, raising her pearlescent wand towards him again.

It was going to be a long and tedious summer.

 

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONFESSION TIME: 
> 
> Albany's appearance is based off of my own, back when I had the au natural look. For your information, I no longer have long, dainty, curly strawberry blonde locks. I have had a short pixie-cut (sort of) that's purple, and I wear electric palates with weird lipsticks and I have a bunch of piercings. Now I'm back to the strawberry blonde curly look, though I'm trying to do an alternative-flapper thing. Gimme a vyshyvanka and I'm ready to face the world.
> 
> I like to think of my characters as 'twins' of myself, or rather, myself in alternate timelines, time periods, or worlds? Narcissistic much? Yeah, sorry. I guess we all write fan fiction to fantasize about ourselves in some way, anyways. If I was living on a farm in rural England in the 80s, I definitely would have kept my long hair and more 'normal' makeup routine.
> 
> Already, one can easily tell that there is a unique dynamic between the two of them. There is also the presence of an UNREQUITED crush on Albany's part. Such a thing is pretty natural amongst girls her age in school. Severus is certainly NOT sexually or romantically interested in her at this moment. He simply finds her to be an enigma that he can't quite understand, with qualities that are hitting a bit too close to home.
> 
> I think Severus is feeling kind of unnerved by this student he is being forced to tutor. He has his suspicions regarding Albus, as the man has continually pushed him towards the brink of death over and over again (and will soon in an even more unimaginable way). He has to keep his walls up, which is a fairly easy job for him being an skilled in Occlumency. He knows she is a seer based on her wand, and although he is suspicious of its validity in the Wizarding world, he remains to have a kind of quiet trepidation. He does not want to let her in... well, he's never wanted to let anyone in, as a matter of fact. 
> 
> Distance is time, time is distance. (I later realized this is an Alicia Keys song and I cringed because I am not really a fan. Not my jam.)
> 
> Distance Speed Time Formula. Speed is a measure of how quickly an object moves from one place to another. It is equal to the distance traveled divided by the time. I failed physics my freshman year of college. So I am not the best person to ask about anything science-related. I tried pre-med. Didn't work out. Was in a psych ward for a month. C'est la vie.
> 
> Also, check out 'Notes from the Underground' and anything Kafka. Those were the shit for me when I was an angsty 16 year old.
> 
> ~~~
> 
> Musical references for this chapter:
> 
> 1\. Frou Frou Foxes in Midsummer Fires (The Cocteau Twins): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yrJjByaG6jQ
> 
> 2\. How Soon Is Now? (The Smiths): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hnpILIIo9ek
> 
> 3\. Sinfonia, Third Movement, In Ruhig Fliessender Bewegung (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9YU-V2C4ryU)
> 
> 4\. Cymande (Dove): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YcL8SvyKtE4
> 
> 5\. Wuthering Heights (Kate Bush): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-1pMMIe4hb4
> 
> 6\. Beyond The Invisible (Enigma): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f8mMWh62XpU
> 
> *7. The First Girl I Loved (The Incredible String Band): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vdtnMzPWqIs
> 
> *this song is literally about a guy who has a fallout with a girl with red long hair, the love of his live; there are also references to wandering Britain and playing with flowers and WOW it's literally just their childhood dynamic. do give it a listen, if you can
> 
> SPOTIFY PLAYLIST: https://open.spotify.com/user/mooniemoe/playlist/1BftWaSHedV8PHnvuicKXB?si=LKrxiuVEQ165ytubpi2V2w


	3. Express Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albany takes the Hogwarts Express and meets a kind new friend. Severus reminisces on his own first time on the Hogwarts Express. Albany's prospects and expectations of Hogwarts are looking just a bit brighter... for now.

 

***

 

 "You do know how much I'm going to miss you, don't you?" Albany's mother asked, all the while strangling Albany in a most aggressively loving embrace.

"Believe me, I know, mum." Albany replied. 

Albany's mother drew away and looked into her eyes, her own were rather teary.

"Call us as often as you can." she said.

"Don't worry, I couldn't afford an owl and won't be sending any night fowls your way. It's a bit of a trek towards the nearest Muggle town, as I've heard, but I'll try my best to call you all once a week."

"Do you promise?"

"Of course, I promise."

Albany's mother stood up and called for her husband, who was sleeping upstairs. Albany's father slowly strolled down the steps, the two women listening to the thud of his footsteps on the wooden staircase.

"Ah, goodbye Albany. I hope you have fun at your fake school." he muttered, clearly hungover.

"It's not a fake school, dad." Albany said through gritted teeth.

"Well, I bet it's a lot more fun than _Oxford_ , certainly much better for your future." he said sarcastically.

"Dad, you know I'm going there because I'm... different than you both. It's for my own good. I'm already behind on my studies there, and I need to catch up as fast as possible." Albany replied, standing up a bit straighter and taking a few more steps towards the staircase where her father stood.

Albany's father didn't quite have a reply to that. He knew his daughter was different, he knew she had powers that he didn't understand nor did he particularly want to. It was all a bit frightening to him, admittedly.

"Just like your mother, I will admit that I don't want you to leave. You're so young..."

"But you were fine with the prospect of my going to university." she replied, her voice a bit cold.

"This is different. This is a new world, for Christ's sake! You don't even know what you're getting yourself into. I don't care that you had some goth fucking tutor coming around here like he has a goddamn right to. If you fuck up, if they fuck you over, or if you find yourself muddled in some dark, scary business... I don't know what I'll do."

"Dad... I'm not going to..."

"I love you, Albany. Don't you ever forget that. I'll tear to pieces any bastard who ever thinks of harming you." her father muttered through gritted teeth.

"We all want you to be safe, Albany." her mother piped in.

Albany stood there for a moment, looking at both of her parents quietly, before pushing past her father to go upstairs and haul down her trunk with all of her school supplies.

"She's leaving us, hun." Albany's father said, looking into his wife's eyes, his own brown ones conveying something of... regret?

"I trust her to keep herself safe. She's old enough." Albany's mother said, before heading into the kitchen.

 

***

 

Albany was escorted by a member of the Ministry, an organization which perplexed her indeed, towards Platform 9 ¾ . Her body was wracked with nerves, her hands trembled and were drenched in nervous sweat as she wrung them together with increasing rapidity. The member of the Ministry, whose name Albany couldn’t remember to save her life, was a rather nervous plump woman wearing large red spectacles and strange patchwork robes. The woman led her to the platform, and nervously shook her hand. Albany thanked her for her help, and with a slight wave the woman from the Ministry was gone.

She stood there on the platform, taking in the stream of young witches and wizards gathering to get on a train, which was most proud and almost sickeningly vintage. Albany could feel a sudden panic growing in her chest, and wiped a bit of sweat from her forehead. 

_Where am I going to sit? How does this damn wizarding social system even work? What if I don't have anywhere to sit? What if people question who I am, and then I have to explain myself... then I'll get even more nervous and forget who I am and what I'm saying and then it will all be so incredibly awkward..._

“Are you okay? You look a bit frazzled there. I don’t recognize you… are you one of the transfer students everyone’s been talking about?” a girl's voice said from behind her.

Startled by this sudden voice, Albany spun around, only to lock eyes with a girl with long dark hair and inquisitive hazel eyes, wearing a simple blue cardigan and skirt with long wool red and white high socks and tennis shoes.

“Oh. Yes, I am… a transfer." Albany replied blankly.

"I knew it had to be you, there aren't many people your age looking as confused on the platform as you are!"

"Back to what you said earlier... Why are people talking about me? I’m not that special. Really, in fact, I'm painfully un-special.” Albany was feeling a bit perplexed.

“Oh, you certainly are. A Muggle-born mysteriously transferring to Hogwarts, joining the fourth years, demonstrating strange magic. You know, people have been following you for quite some time. I would imagine you wouldn’t be aware, given your background, but it is true. I also heard rumours that you’ve been working with Professor Snape. So how rude was the greasy bat of the dungeons?” Albany liked this girl already.

“Fairly awful. Intriguing, however. Mildly entertaining at times, actually.” Albany replied.

The girl laughed.

"How did people find out about all this?" Albany asked, hesitant to learn the answer.

"Skeeter has a bit of a fascination with profiles of students. It's borderline trafficking, if you ask me. She's a real sick witch, that Skeeter."

"Skeeter?" Albany asked. How many terms and phrases would there be in the wizarding world?

"Rita Skeeter. She writes for the Daily Prophet. She's been doing it for years. She's a total creep about any promising students. She tells them it's for exposure, but I think she has some kind of sadistic thing for minors." Andrea said with a laugh. "As a proud Ravenclaw, I possess rather good intuitive reasoning skills, and I've reasoned that that witch is indeed a bitch."

Albany laughed. "You have a real way with words... wait, what's your name?"

“I should have introduced myself earlier. My name is Andrea Palestone. I'm a sixth year. It’s lovely to meet you, Albany.” She put out her hand, and Albany shook it.

"So she's mentioned my name and everything?" Albany asked.

"I mean, I don't have the newspaper clipping or anything, but she did take a picture of you and Snape in Diagon Alley, with you holding your wand. You look absolutely ecstatic, and he looks like he's about to hit you over the head with one of those cauldrons in the corner of the picture." Andrea said, a cheeky smile forming on her face. "I feel really bad for you, having to tolerate him while you're experiencing all the joyous first-times of the magical world. That's a real pity."

"Really, it was fine. I promise." Albany said, growing a bit more interested in all this hatred towards Snape. She decided to not push, and keep things civil. This girl was her first 'friend', at least.

“Would you care to sit with me on the train? My friends are quite sweet, they would love to meet you. They’re a hospitable bunch, comprised of us Ravenclaws and a few Hufflepuffs. We seem to be the only sane houses at this damned school.” Albany could already believe her, having heard much about the infamous and often aggressive rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin.

“I’d love to.” Albany said, a cheerful smile forming on her face, her cheeks rosy with a newfound excitement for the upcoming year. She was worried that their judgment of her would become sour once she was sorted in Slytherin. She decided to push such negative thoughts to the back of her mind, for now.

"I've heard awful things about Slytherin and Gryffindor. Is there really that much animosity between them?" Albany asked.

"Oh, you have no idea. It's even worse than you think." she added, before turning back to her parents who were generously giving her space to talk to her new friend.

Andrea said goodbye to her family, who were indeed a lovely bunch of suave, intellectual and bookish Ravenclaws. Albany gave them a wave as well, and they returned the act and looked at her with a very loving tenderness that said much about their hospitality towards a confused 'transfer' Muggle-Born. 

They boarded the train, and Albany was soon overwhelmed by all the bizarre stares from students both younger and older than herself, an assemblage of whimsical pets, and the sweet trolley which casually strolled up and down the aisles. She sat with a group of kind students, all of whom introduced themselves to her, shaking her hand eagerly and looking at her with what felt like genuine smiles. Her nerves were beginning to dial down, and as she looked out at the Scottish moors and hills, she practiced the breathing exercises her mother had taught her. Deep breath in through the nose, out through the mouth. Again, again…

“So I’ve heard you went to Muggle school. What was that like?” one girl asked her, a pretty Hufflepuff with sparkle in her dark eyes.

“Interesting. It’s all I really know, to be honest. I’m a bit nervous to start learning… something entirely new in an academic setting.” She spoke honestly.

“I’ve heard that Muggle science and literature is all very emotional and intuitive. They really work hard to understand the physical and emotional world. I, for one, find it highly admirable. I mean, they are isolated from our world, but they do their best. There is merit to their work, however. Sure, it's not the entire piece of the grand puzzle of the universe and its workings. I mean, imagine what it would be like if Muggles and wizards were to work together to understand the universe?"

"Oh, B, you know that would never happen. We're too polarized." Andrea said. “You know, Albany could teach you a thing or two about Muggle culture. Would you be willing to? I must admit, I am a bit curious as well.” Andrea grinned at Albany.

"I mean, if you're interested in science... I don't think I'm the one to ask."

"It can be anything, seriously! So how does the Muggle school thing work exactly?" the pretty Hufflepuff asked.

"Well, I suppose you have general subjects that you study, like history, literature or English, maths, different sciences, arts, and foreign languages... then when you're in college you can specialize in a few subjects." It felt very strange to Albany to be describing something so... ordinary.

"Well, what was your specialization in college, then?"

"Well... it was English literature." A few ooohs and ahhhs emerged from the perky compartment crowd.

"Us wizards do read some Muggle literature, my parents love it." Andrea remarked.

“I know a great deal about literature, actually. My father is, was, a professor in literature at Oxford. My mother teaches in secondary schools sometimes. They’re lovely people, really. I love my parents.” She spoke truthfully, from her heart.

“You’re awfully passionate. I think you're a kind person, Albany. Perhaps you’ll be in Hufflepuff, like me.” Andrea’s friend remarked. Albany knew her disappointment and eventual reluctance to be associated with her was inevitable.

“Perhaps.” This was all Albany could say.

"We all need to change into our robes. Should we put curtains over the windows or should we let the Scottish moors get a good look at our knickers?" Andrea said with a laugh, a few of her friends joining in.

"I vote we let the world see our knickers!" another girl exclaimed, with long blonde hair, one strand tied up in a thick, shiny braid.

Albany grinned, pulling out the secondhand and threadbare robe she had picked up from Diagon Alley. She immediately noticed how it was yet to have the colors of any houses. She watched as the girls in her compartment pulled out their blue and yellow robes. Albany, admittedly, did feel a little bit left out. The girls changed very slowly, drawing out their nudity through a kind of strip tease towards no one in particular, laughing as they buttoned up their shirts, pulled stockings over their legs, and buckled their conservative black shoes. Andrea seemed to notice that Albany was rather embarrassed about her wardrobe.

"Albany, we won't let anyone be jerks about your clothes." she said, knowing exactly what Albany was thinking. "Anyone who insults another person due to their socioeconomic status is really just trying to hide something themselves. Pay them no mind, alright?"

"Okay."

Albany had always loved the slow rumble of trains. She watched as the sky began to spew little droplets of crystal clear water over the train’s windows. She closed her eyes, blocking out the excited chatter of the witches and wizards which filled this train.

She knew she would be missing her mother dearly.

 

***

 

_Oh, Severus. Bitte schreibe mir ... stellen du sicher, dass Ihre Eule diskret ist. Du weißt, wie es Ihrem Vater geht, Eulen in der Nähe zu sehen. Er wird denken, wir haben etwas vor._

"Oh, Severus. Please write to me... make sure your owl is discreet. You know how your father feels about seeing owls around. He'll think we're up to something." Eileen said before placing a kiss on her son's bruised cheek, covered up with her own makeup. They had no access to remedial potions, as magic was banned in Spinner's End.

_Ich werde, Mama. Ich werde so viel wie möglich schreiben._

"I will, mum. I'll write as much as possible." he said, tears forming in his eyes. Why was he already missing home, when home was such a sad place?

"Severus! Hurry, the train is going to be leaving soon!" Lily cried out, absolutely itching to jump on the train.

Eileen had agreed to take both of the children to platform 9 3/4, lying to her husband and saying that she was taking their son and his friend to the movies after being given _free_ tickets, of course. He would have been infuriated if his wife were to spend any money. Their expenses were overwhelming after Tobias had spent most of it on booze and cigarettes.

_Ich werde dich vermissen, mein Engel._

"I'll miss you, my angel." she said, hugging her son once more before gesturing him to join Lily on the train. She watched his threadbare, already dirty robes, a size too big, trailing behind him. They had been her own robes during her time in Hogwarts, and he was a rather small boy for his age. Perhaps it was due to being a bit malnourished. 

He and Lily found an empty compartment and sat down next to each other, Lily holding Severus's hand, giving it a squeeze whenever she could tell he was growing anxious.

"This is it, Severus! We're finally going to Hogwarts!" Lily cried, smiling over at Severus. He nervously smiled back. He was absolutely petrified at the idea that other students would see his clothes, would judge his dirty hair and the acne that had begun to form on his pale, chalky skin.

Suddenly, a gaggle of boys burst through the compartment door.

"Ah! Finally, a mostly empty compartment! FINALLY! Come on, guys!" shouted a boy with shaggy brown hair and glasses. Soon, a number of boys swarmed the compartment, the boy with glasses sitting right next to Lily and three others taking on the seat across from them.

"I'm James. What's your name?" the boy said to Lily, completely ignoring Severus.

"Lily. This is Severus." she gestured to her friend, not wanting him to feel completely left out.

"Well Lily, I'm James, and this is Sirius, Remus, and Peter. We became fast friends! I'm hoping to get sorted into Gryffindor. What about you?"

"I don't know. I'll go into whatever house the hat puts me in." she replied, reaching again for Severus's hand and clutching it. She could see the laughs from James's friends. James noticed this, and frowned.

"What, is this your boyfriend?" he said, gesturing towards Severus, a mild look of disgust on his face.

_They think I'm ugly._

"He's my best friend." Lily replied.

"So he's basically your boyfriend." Sirius remarked from across the compartment.

"Not fair! She has a boyfriend before even going to school! That's a real pity." James laughed.

"Do you think we'll see them holding hands, walking down the corridors? Maybe snogging in the Great Hall?" Remus interjected.

"But she's so _pretty_!" James said, giving Lily a little wink.

James frowned at this strange, dirty, morose boy, taken slightly aback by how he was defending himself.

Severus noticed that Lily seemed nervous, tears forming at the edges of her bright green eyes. He felt a surge of something unidentifiable to him at the time. It was a demand to console, which he had only before felt when his father had hit his mother.

"Petunia... she told me I was a freak..."

"She doesn't matter. She's only a Muggle. She's not like you or me. She's not special. We are _special_. I think it would be... it would be good to be in Slytherin. My mum was there! It's the best house. She said it saved her..."

"Slytherin? Evil witches and wizards go there. You don't want to go there, Lily. Most Slytherins are too ugly to see the light of day..." James growled, narrowing his eyes at Severus.

"Would you all sod off..." Severus muttered under his breath, his dark eyes glaring at the incredibly irritating boys that had infiltrated their compartment.

"I'm afraid we're not wanted here, boys. Perhaps we can find a compartment that stinks a bit less. I don't know how such a pretty girl such as you can put up with his  _stink_." he said, gesturing for his friends to leave the compartment. As soon as they had left, he turned again to Lily. "I'll see you around, Lily."

"What a jerk!" Lily exclaimed once the boys had left the compartment, clutching Severus's hand harder. "Ignore them, Severus. They're a bunch of bullies."

It would become extremely hard to ignore them, the damned Marauders. It would prove to be a difficult seven years.

 

***

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Albany's making new friends! This is definitely healthy for her, and it's putting her at ease, though she can foresee a difficult future. Literally. 
> 
> Severus and Lily go on the train together on their way to Hogwarts, and already it proves to be a difficult time for Severus.
> 
> I know the scene on the Hogwarts Express isn't word for word based on the books. I don't have a copy, and I'm a broke college student so I won't be getting one sometime soon. Yes, I could get one at the library, but it's pretty embarrassing for me to check out Harry Potter at a pretty fancy institution. I tried my best. Sometimes memories can be modified. Let's pretend it's canon. Yeah. Let's pretend.
> 
> Also, Andrea is like 90% modeled after my best friend at college. She lives a few doors down in my dorm. We are basically wives at this point. Totally inseparable. Too bad she's straight.
> 
> ~~~
> 
> Atmospheric soundtrack time! Thanks for the kudos :)
> 
> 1\. Hyperballad (Björk): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EnZzE89Qn7w
> 
> 2\. Mapas (Vetusta Morla): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b15YwZdo6aU
> 
> 3\. Changes (David Bowie): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pl3vxEudif8
> 
> SPOTIFY PLAYLIST: https://open.spotify.com/user/mooniemoe/playlist/1BftWaSHedV8PHnvuicKXB?si=LKrxiuVEQ165ytubpi2V2w


	4. The Sorting, and an (Un)expected Twist of Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albany and Andrea finally arrive at Hogwarts, and Albany and another transfer student are sorted into their respective houses. Albany meets her roommate, the talking paintings are most bizarre, and a butter beer common room party ensues. *Some mild sexual talk, but nothing really happens. Just horny teenager talk. We've all been there, done that.*

 

***

 

It was rather uncomfortable for Albany to be a towering figure amidst a crowd of 10 and 11 year olds. She could feel her face turning scarlet as she waited in line, the other incoming first years equally confused by her presence. Fortunately, she found herself blessed that there was another transfer student from South Africa also joining the fourth years. She greeted him, and he introduced himself to her. His name was Mpho and he was a lovely young man with a great smile and smooth, fresh skin whose complexion she was highly envious of. She knew she would be friends with him already, as she could sense within him a kind of unique stoicism that she had always admired in others, but hadn’t necessarily possessed herself.

The Great Hall was glorious, a true sight to behold. Albany felt herself completely overwhelmed, staring at the hovering candles and oddly dressed students. She was one of them, wearing the secondhand robes the Ministry had provided for her in her scholarship.

“Slytherin!” A couple claps.

“Hufflepuff!” Mild clapping.

“Hufflepuff!” Equally mild clapping.

“Gryffindor!” Ecstasy.

“Ravenclaw!” Mild clapping.

The hat was working rapidly, Albany transfixed by its contorted facial features as it skanned the objectively pure minds of these children. She and Mpho were to be the last students sorted, and Albany could feel the pressure of the crowd building up, clearly intent on seeing which houses these mysterious new transfer students would be sorted into.

Similarly to her, Mpho had also never been formally trained, though he came from a wizarding family. He briefly mentioned to her that his father was involved in political affairs in South Africa, and that there were significant issues in the country, not only in terms of racial politics, but in the wizarding world as well. Before she could ask him to elaborate, as she had always been keen on learning more about world politics and international affairs, and she was all the more curious about the parallel experiences of the wizarding world, she heard his name called up by the sorting hat.

"Mpho Oliphant!" the hat cheered. Sitting atop Mpho's head as he began to shake violently, nearly convulsing with nerves, the hat muttered something about strategy and redefining society before shouting out, "Slytherin!"

It was time.

“Albany Olivia Newson!” the hat barked, pulling her out from her daze as she watched Mpho saunter towards the Slytherin table. Despite it having no discernible orbits of vision, Albany found herself growing red as the hat seemed to judge her before even being placed on her head.

The hat was rested gently upon her head and remained silent just for a period, before muttering something about ‘secrets’ and ‘lowered expectations’. There was something more, something darker that the hat certainly could see.

Severus had reluctantly informed her of wizards and witches and their tendency to see into the minds of others. There was little privacy to be had in the wizarding world, and this control over privacy was practically autonomous. Albany knew that this world was simply a grandiose recipe for disaster. No wonder there had been wizards like Grindelwald and Voldemort terrorizing both wizards and Muggles for years. The wizarding world practically had no accountability, and, in her opinion, it would be better if standards were to be set…

Before she could finish this rather frustrated thought, the hat called out the word Albany had known it would since her powers of intuitivity had been growing all the more powerful with each tutoring session over the summer.

"Greetings, Seer." the hat said, nearly at a whisper, implying a private and intimate exchange between the two of them. Well, as intimate as an exchange between an enchanted hat and a 16 year old girl could get.

“Slytherin!” Some clapping in the back, perhaps a few gleeful shouts from the Slytherin table.

Immediately, Albany could see Snape’s gaze without even having to look at him. There was something rather cold and calculating in his glittering eyes, and slowly, with poise, she stood and walked silently to the Slytherin table, taking a seat where another student had reluctantly scooted over. She could see his hair draping around his sallow face, framing his pale, nearly glowing skin. She could see his long, work worn fingertips anxiously rubbing up against each other, calculating, discerning, determining strategies to move forward with what he considered this problematic development.

Then, she suddenly turned to face Snape and decided to give him a rather coy smile. She knew that he knew… that she knew… she knew far more about these circumstances than she was letting on. It most certainly frustrated him. He stared back at her, unwilling to look away. This was indeed their first consistent exchange of eye contact. There was a brief unspoken conversation between the two of them. He was offering her a warning, he was looking into her mind (albeit trying not to make her aware of it, though she was), and there was, perhaps… a desire in there to keep her safe? To protect her? To not subject her to certain forces that he felt would overtake her? He could see her vulnerabilities. He had been cold to her, as he had been cold to everyone, but there was something distinct about her. It perplexed him immensely.

He only realized how long they had been making eye contact when she looked away to shake the hand of a boy whose eyes raked their way up and down her body. Snape found himself rolling his eyes and returning to his pork roast dinner, which, although prepared to perfection, tasted like sand to him. The meals here were the same, day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year… soon to be decade.

Dumbledore made his speech... something about cursed vaults and frozen ice and boggarts? Albany had no idea what the latter was but she had literally no intention of finding out. She noticed how a few Slytherins in her year, a rather tight-knit gang, seemed to be mumbling to themselves about something while looking over at some other tables. They were mumbling. Everyone was fucking mumbling.

The Slytherins at the table were certainly charming, to say the least. They offered her smiles and warm handshakes, and for a moment she thought that, perhaps, her visions had been errors. She then saw another vision of sheer judgment and utter ostracization from her fellow Slytherins. She could see them surrounding her, the whites of their eyes and teeth glaring at her as she was pushed by some invisible force unbeknownst to her back into the bark of a tree… She tried not to think all that much about it. She knew opening her mouth and relaying her vulnerabilities was inevitable, and so she did so when all the petty introductions had been exchanged.

They were all curious about her familial background. She stated that she had none. Her parents were academics on Muggle literature and she had grown up in a Muggle town a 30 minute car ride from Oxford. It had actually taken quite a big deal of persuasion for her parents to agree to send her away to what they considered to be a ‘fake school’, and, as her father said, “likely filled to the brim with wayward crackheads Brits who didn’t realize the Manson family hysterica was over, or had died out, rather, in 1969”. This did not garner a laugh, except from Mpho, who had also miraculously been sorted in Slytherin and had already pledged his allegiance to the only girl in the house who wasn’t posh and who actually gave a damn about apartheid.

This introduction did not fare well. The Slytherins exchanged confused glances with one another and stared at her with a mixture of embarrassment and a bit of dark humour. She was to become their laughingstock.

“It’s not everyday a mudblood gets to be in Slytherin, now does it?” one girl piped up, receiving a high five from another girl with spiky hair and a rather unattractive orange streak, who promptly returned to discussing something passionately with another girl.

The perpetrator's eyes were lined with makeup and her lips had the slightest shade of red lipstick applied. Her hair was cut into diagonal bangs and she had a slight buck tooth so that she looked like a rat in hair and makeup. Albany thought this but did not say it out loud.

“Oh come on, Fae. She’s one of us, go easy on her.” a guy who had been decently nice to Albany mumbled.

“Mudblood? Is that supposed to be an insult? If so, you all better pick a better one, because that one just sounds fucking stupid.” Her honesty was brutal, the typical Slytherin she was indeed, despite her lack of ‘purity’.

Albany began to pick at the broccoli on her plate and she could practically hear the Slytherins’ jaws drop. She felt a nudge from Mpho and looked at a slight smirk on his face. She smirked right back.

She then found herself looking towards the professors’ table, admiring the lovely mad wizarding attire, brimming with eccentricity. She could get used to this. She then fell into obsidian eyes, staring her way, which had just been burning a hole in the back of her head. She blushed, and he looked away immediately. She felt a slight tingle in her abdomen, but tried to ignore it. Why was he paying attention to her after being such a twat throughout the summer during their lessons out in the fields of Blacksfield, a place he seemed to dislike, despite it being a scenic and lovely parish?

“Professor Snape seems to be in a worse mood than usual.” one Slytherin remarked.

“Definitely. He certainly didn’t change his shampoo regime over the summer.” a burst of laughter erupted throughout the table, and Albany found herself wanting to defend the man, but being far too hesitant to do so. She had already ruined her image for most of her housemates already. She didn’t want to make things worse by defending a sinister, cold, and difficult man as Professor Snape.

The rest of the meal Mpho and Albany stayed silent, but knew that they would be remaining friends throughout both of their times at Hogwarts.

 

***

 

The group of first years Slytherins along with the two transfers followed the prefect more or less silently as he detailed certain parts of the castle, introducing some Slytherins to several rather boisterous portraits as the air became colder and colder. They were promptly in the dungeons, and Albany realized she would have to cope with the numerous goosebumps erupting over her entire body. She then saw Snape, his billowing roads flailing in the direction of what she assumed were his private chambers. She watched him disappear, admittedly curious about what lay behind those doors, though she pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind immediately.

They filed into the dungeons and were given their accommodations. Mpho wished her well with a tender hug. Albany could feel her eyes slightly brimming with tears.

  
Fae was to be her roommate. She accepted her fate (letters very similar to her name, she remarked to herself… always seeking little plays on words), though Fae certainly did look mildly disgusted, though she quickly covered this sentiment with a quick smile in Albany’s direction.

"I had been rooming with Merula ever since our first year. I requested out, in case you were wondering, but never expected anything worse than a half blood having to breathe the same general contained air as me." Fae said immediately upon entry. This girl was a difficult one, to say the least. "She wants to be with Ismelda now." Albany nodded, though she had no idea who any of these people were.

“We can be fast friends. Of course, if you know your place.” Fae said with a wicked grin, already sorting out her sheets and unpacking her trunk, decorating her nighttime table with a particularly lovely orchid whose vase had somehow not shattered in her crowded trunk. Well, that was magic, Albany reminded herself.

“Do you like orchids too? I think they’re absolutely stunning.” Albany remarked, hoping to develop somewhat of a decent relationship with her new roommate.

Fae gave her a strange, almost condescending look, before digging into her trunk and bringing out a Slytherin pin adorned with tourmalines and diamonds. Fae wished to change the subject a bit.

“My mother got this for me once I got into Slytherin. It was a tradition within my family to honor Slytherin. It’s the only good house in my opinion. You’ll have to adjust to life here. It may be difficult, and I can’t say I’ll support you, but I can tolerate you. Perhaps your magic will prove to be… most interesting. Muggle-Borns always entertain me with their bewildered attitude regarding the wizarding world. It will be interesting to see you… struggle.”

Albany had no idea how to respond to this, and became nervous knowing that she would be sleeping adjacent to Fae for the rest of her fourth year.

“If you don’t mind my asking, do you know anything about the legacy of blood purity in this fine house?” Fae asked.

“No. I don’t know very much of the wizarding world at all, as a matter of fact. I’m learning as I go.”

“I heard Snapey-poo taught you some things. He’s a bloody awful instructor, a complete distressed dark mess of a man. I apologize for his introduction of Slytherin, mudblood. Do you mind me calling you that? It has a real nice ring to it.” Andrea had a bizarre smirk on her face that Albany didn’t quite know how to interpret.

“Yes, I learned some spells and I was given some instructions on potions making. He wasn’t very interested in giving me any hands on practice, however. I wasn’t even that good at regular Muggle chemistry. I’m dreading his class. He definitely hates me.” Albany said.

“He hates everyone. He’s just like that. I’d recommend sitting in the back of the class if I were you. Don’t try to speak, keep your head down. Personally, I’m decent at potions and I can help you out if you want it, though I can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to make all that much time for you. Apologies, mudblood.” Andrea again had that smirk, a definite characteristic of hers more pronounced by her strange makeup and conflicted demeanor.

“You are bizarre, Fae. I respect you, however, and I hope we can keep a good relationship as roommates.” There was a period of silence after this statement before Andrea cleared her throat to speak.

“You know, I have a theory that Snape is into dark shit. Like BDSM and chains and bondage, nipple clamps and biting, and all that shit. What do you think?” Fae laughed wholeheartedly, throwing her head back and showing her somewhat yellow, crooked teeth. She did retain that certain Slytherin charm, regardless.  
Albany hadn’t even heard of the things that Fae was describing, and found herself taken a bit back.

“Do… do people do that?”

“Ah, you’re an innocent one. I’ll have to educate you. I brought along some magazines, with those moving pictures you’re sure to have never really enjoyed before. We’ll have to sit down and browse through them one night. Are you a virgin?”

“Um… yes. I’ve never had a boyfriend, or girlfriend, and I’ve never been kissed either. No one really liked me. I think I was too much of an ugly and strange child.” Albany responded.

“Well, you certainly wouldn’t want any filthy Muggles groping around down there.”

Albany felt shudders down her spine, briefly having flashbacks to the neighbor she had killed with slick and effective flames.

“You look decent, though we could work on that face. You’ve got a few spots there, some hair out of place. There’s magical ointments and shit for that, don’t you worry. I’ll fix you right up, and we can go look for boyfriends together. How does that sound?”

Albany could only muster up the courage to shrug. This girl was absolutely enigmatic, and she couldn’t really decide whether to be her best friend or to establish boundaries early on.

“Do you have any friends yet? I can offer you some warnings about certain groups.” Fae offered. Albany knew that this offer was most generous on the basis of Fae’s standards, and decided to see what she could gleam from this while maintaining a sense of objectivity.

“I’ve met Andrea from Ravenclaw, and Mpho from Slytherin, and… there was a girl from Hufflepuff who I talked to on the train.”

“Ravenclaws are decent, a little almighty, and Mpho seems a bit challenged, but Hufflepuffs are total wimps. If you get them on their side, they’ll do whatever you tell them to do. They can be helpful, always submissive. Slytherins, on the other hand…” Andrea smirked, obviously something dirty coming to mind. “I’ll tell you my biggest secret if you’ll tell me yours. Consider it a bonding exercise. Ok, I’ll go first. I have a crush on Snape. Ew! I know it’s nasty, and I know he’s a greasy son of a bitch… there’s something alluring about him. Wouldn’t you agree? I’m jealous that you spent so much time with him.”

Albany couldn’t really believe her ears. Admittedly, she had an interest in the man, though she thought to herself that she would absolutely never act on such a thought.

Fae was kind of impressed by Albany’s nonchalant reaction. Perhaps she had already perfected her Slytherin self-control.

Before Albany could share her darkest secret, the one she always wished to hide from the outside world, from anyone who could ever learn of such an evil deed, a group of Slytherin girls burst into their room and shouted that someone brought butterbeer into the Common Room and the prefects had completely lost control over the raging party going on downstairs. Fae fled the room, forgetting their arrangement entirely.

Albany came out and glanced down the stairs, deciding that instead she was incredibly exhausted from taking in the last three months of complete chaos. Her world had completely turned on its head, and hers most certainly ached. She quickly changed into a t-shirt with Robert Smith from The Cure on it and some boxers before practically throwing herself under a green comforter and falling into a dreamless sleep.

 

***

 

The damned girl was put in Slytherin. Oh, she was in for a complete nightmare. Severus had been observing her sorting, discreetly looking into her nervous thoughts as she waited in line, completely out of place, with a bunch of 10 and 11-year-olds. It was almost amusing, really, to see such a tall girl in a crowd of tiny little aggravating pests, as they were. 

When she was sorted in Slytherin, he could feel his heart drop. Oh, she was in for hell. He remembered his own first few days in Slytherin, being interrogated for his blood status, facing extreme disappointment from blood purists and the elite for letting a poor half-blood into their esteemed house. She would certainly face even a greater hell than he ever did, and he was almost,  _almost_ , sympathetic. It was even worse that he had been separated from Lily, that she had been put into the house of that blasted James Potter and his buddies. They were so cruel to him, so cruel without even knowing him. They had simply taken one look at him and decided that he was worth nothing more than swine. It had hurt him deeply, though he wouldn't admit it. He had to keep up his defenses. He had spent enough time in Cokeworth crying in his mother's arms. He would grow up, he decided, he would become a real man here, but not the kind his father wanted. No, he would be his own man.

Lucius Malfoy was the prefect for Slytherin at the time, and although he certainly wasn't particularly fond of this kid at first, he did find a strange interest in him. There was something unusual in his character, something most intriguing. He was a lost child, and was obviously resentful of Muggles, despite being a half-blood. Lucius saw this as an opportunity to have his own little apprentice of sorts.

Lucius had lately become very interested in the dark arts, as well as the workings of a certain Tom Riddle. He was far too young to consider joining himself, as well as generally inexperienced with magic, but knew deep down that he would somehow find a way to appease that glorious Dark Lord. 

A few Slytherins were picking on the half-blood, pulling loose threads from his robe, unraveling it. He tried to swat them away, but they were persistent.

"Stop that, you idiots. Leave him alone." Lucius said cooly, brushing aside two meddling fourth years. "Let him be. Now, what is your name?"

"Severus Snape."

"Lucius Malfoy. Welcome to Slytherin, Snape."

 

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roommates are always a hit or miss. I may have created Fae as a kind of sick combination between my freshman year roommate and myself... it was an odd dynamic, and we were certainly both unconventional people, to say the least. We have so many things in common, but she definitely hates me as a person. I dislike her as well. It's mutual. I think she dislikes my erratic moods and sensitivity (can't help that, hello mental illness) and I dislike her laziness, messiness, rudeness, and general spoiled and entitled behavior. Yeah... that's what's up. We have a very complex relationship, but we're definitely not on a talking basis right now. Sorry, this has become a rant about my roommate... Moving right along.
> 
> What do you think Snape's feelings about this development is? What about Andrea's?
> 
> Poor Snape, getting picked on in Slytherin. I think, at this point, things have improved generally in the house with Voldemort 'defeated' and all... but that doesn't mean Slytherin has suddenly become an egalitarian house, per say... 
> 
> Yes, I am a Slytherin. Though I would imagine myself as not a pureblood, though I base such a personal assumption on the fact that I am a student at a prestigious university on an almost full scholarship. I have a job and also work at a radio station on campus. I have intensive therapy due to my severe mental health issues, and take multiple foreign languages and study films. Watching films does take up a lot of your time, even though it's mandatory for certain classes. Anyways, so yeah, I am overly ambitious and I can be emotionally distant. I am a Slytherin. I have Slytherin socks. I want a scarf but I am hella broke.
> 
> ~~~
> 
> As promised, here are some music references:
> 
> 1\. My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark (Fall Out Boy): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LkIWmsP3c_s
> 
> 2\. People Are Strange (The Doors): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GJY8jJkDoMY
> 
> 3\. Bad Girls (M.I.A.): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2uYs0gJD-LE
> 
> 4\. If Only We Could Sleep (The Cure): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4JKG-i1hTV4
> 
> SPOTIFY PLAYLIST: https://open.spotify.com/user/mooniemoe/playlist/1BftWaSHedV8PHnvuicKXB?si=LKrxiuVEQ165ytubpi2V2w


	5. Allies, Halloween, Fish, and Domesticity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albany gets acquainted with Hogwarts, proving to be one particularly snarky troublemaker, albeit one who cries privately in her dorm, burying her head into her green Slytherin-esque pillows. Albany and Mpho meet some merpeople, and Albany makes a spectacle of herself in the Great Hall. Severus gets very, very frustrated and is confronted with some cruel memories. Albany's home life is falling apart. She turns 17.

 

***

 

Andrea had introduced Albany to Belle, a particularly sweet and inquisitive Hufflepuff fifth year, whom Albany had briefly conversed with on the Hogwarts Express along with Penny Haywood (although she was now far too popular to associate with the likes of them), during a walk by the lake one weekend. Albany did honestly feel a bit of an attraction to her, or perhaps an admiration of her natural beauty. She was named Belle for a reason, after all. These thoughts did make her nervous. She had casually confessed the possibility of her being interested in girls to Fae, who seemed unphased by it all. She could see into the future, having a natural talent for divination, and felt overwhelmed by fear and concern for her future, for her reputation. Perhaps she would lose it, or maybe she never had it to begin with.

Her full name was Belle Jia Park, and she was a natural beauty. With porcelain skin, doll-like brown eyes and silky raven hair, she certainly caught the attention of most of the boys at Hogwarts, despite being rather open with her friends about her true natural inclinations. She confessed to loving being with women far more than men. She had never kissed a boy before, and she never had a desire to do so. This made some boys furious, and tempted them to spread crude rumors about her which sometimes left her crying in the Hufflepuff common room. Some people had even taken to calling her a ‘dyke’, despite her being one of the most feminine, graceful girls to ever walk the halls of Hogwarts. This had made her quite insecure, though she would never admit it out loud. Andrea was the kind of friend who offered solace, and, despite being a year older, Belle was drawn in to Andrea and let Andrea's mum-friend attitude engulf her and protect her from harm and ridicule.

Andrea, Albany, and Belle would walk hand in hand down to the lake to sit in the field and do work. Albany found this to be a relieving way to spend their days off from classes, talking about people, classes, and other stresses. Albany had so many. It was all made much worse being the only Muggle-Born in Slytherin. Most people would ignore her entirely, pretending as though she didn’t exist, which was admittedly preferable to being mocked or picked on, as it were. Her defenses her always up, and she decided that she would play it safe and keep her head down, not letting the wealthy pure-blooded Slytherins get into her head all that much. She knew they would be talking about her whenever she left the common room, or whenever she messed up a spell in Charms class.

Her world was a constant whirlwind of catching up to her peers and feeling far too stupid to be placed into her fourth year. She could be honest with her friends about her depression and her complex relationship with Fae. She didn’t tell them, however, of she and Fae’s secret liasons in which they would browse wizard pornographic paraphernalia and such stuff. They actually had a decent time, though Albany was growing tired and all the more confused by Fae’s utter obsession with Snape. If she even remotely picked on her for her proclivities, Fae would absolutely cast a _stupefy_ on her, a spell which both girls had not quite perfected themselves.

There had been all this talk about the Cursed Vaults, what with this Rakepick woman arriving to the castle, and Belle and Andrea assured her that she would want nothing, absolutely nothing to do with this. Rumours were that students were sleepwalking into the Forbidden Forest at night, completely vulnerable to the dangers of whatever the hell was in there. Belle had been quite close with Nymphadora Tonks and Penny Haywood, two very popular Hufflepuff girls, before deciding to go her own way and find some new friends. Additionally, they had made it clear that they weren't comfortable hanging around a 'lesbian'. Similarly, Andrea had always felt like she was living in the shadow of Tulip Karamasu and Andre Egwu, the two stars of Ravenclaw. There were these 'Curse-breakers', immensely popular students, who seemed to be solving all these great mysteries of Hogwarts's dynamic past. There was a search for this Jacob boy... and then there were the rest of the students, living their own lives, leading out their own completely separate stories. 

Dumbledore had actually requested her presence in his office, and she was absolutely blown away by the golden eagle and spiral staircase leading to his office which would capture the imagination of wonder of even the dullest and monotonous of fools. He questioned her wellbeing, if she had caught up in her classes, and whether her fellow Slytherins were kind to her. She believed they were as kind as they could possibly be, and Dumbledore still didn’t look convinced.

“What are your intentions for the _future_ , Miss Newson? Will you pursue magic and find a career in the wizarding world, or will you return to your family, perhaps?”

“Wherever circumstances will take me, I will follow. However, admittedly, I am filled with self doubt. I feel talentless and behind my peers. I am struggling.” Albany was surprised by her own honesty, but Dumbledore took it well. He dismissed her from his office, and she returned to her with a sense of defeat, and maybe a hint of regret.

Tears were forming at the corners of the eyes due to this rather irritating surge of emotional stress, and she soon found herself bumping into a black wool cloak. She muttered a quick apology before heading down to the dungeons, realizing once again she was being watched. She turned around to see Professor Snape staring at her, eyes glaring, black and glittering, though telling something completely different than what she expected. Sure, there was mild aggravation there, but there was a sense of concern. It was very out of character for him, though Albany shrugged it off and arrived in her room, burying her face in her pillows and silently sobbing for about an hour.

Fae came into the room and sighed in a strange mix of pity and exasperation, as sometimes Albany would wake finding her face wet from crying during her sleep. She couldn’t blame Fae for her irritation and subtle resentment. Her crying could be rather noisy.

"Albany, are you okay?" Fae said to her one day.

"No, I mean, yes. It's fine, really." Albany mumbled, face muffled by her pillow.

"I get it. It is difficult being here. All these people here have ambition, talent, looks, brains. Then, you think to yourself, what the hell am I doing here? How do I even fit in here?"

"You think that, sometimes?"

"I guess so. I mean, Merula used to be my best friend when we were growing up... then she ditched me to go on her own little stupid fucking quest, which she hasn't given up yet, despite failing so many damn times... when I went to ask her why she was ignoring me, she hexed me and walked away. That was second year. I even got frozen during that whole cursed ice nonsense and she didn't even visit me in the hospital. Even Barnaby visited me in the hospital, and he's a fucking idiot."

"I'm sorry, Fae. I really am. You deserve better." Albany said.

Fae was silent. "And I nearly failed Potions last year, which pisses me the hell off because I hate disappointing him..." she mumbled. "He doesn't even give a shite about me, who am I even kidding? I'm just a waste of potential."

"No, Fae, you're not."

"Yes, I am, actually. My mum makes a point of telling me that every day."

Albany couldn't help but feel bad for her.

"How did you get Snape to like you?" Fae said suddenly, changing the topic.

"What?"

"How did you get him to like you? You're not that good at Potions, but he's always looking at you, as if he's impressed, or something."

Albany’s mind went back to her professor and the sneer that always seemed to mark his face. There wasn’t anything that she was doing that could be right. She was a talentless mess, a disgrace of a witch, hardly deserving of that title. Everyone here knew it. She actually found that she fit in amongst the muggles of Blacksfield than her fellow Slytherins. Why did her fate have to take this turn, and why was she cursed to always know of it?

"He doesn't. We just spent more time together over the summer when he tutored me. He probably just feels responsible for all my many shortcomings."

Fae laughed. "Perhaps that's true!" Albany joined her in laughing, before remembering that she had an appointment at 7 in Dumbledore's office.

Dumbledore did recommend she learn more about divination and Seers of the past as quickly as possible. Marked by her silver lime wood wand, and a mumbled warning to Dumbledore that a man _“decorated in cloths of the east”_ would come and _“reveal unto itself the role of a hydra”_ , Albany felt all the more estranged from everyone at Hogwarts around her. Dumbledore wrote this prophecy on a little notepad, which surprised Albany, since her parents had never taken any heed to her attempts at little poetic musings. She was learning how to formulate words and narratives in response to the images in her mind. She was getting there, slowly. Dumbledore suggested her taking initiative in contacting a certain Sybill Trelawney, the great-great-granddaughter of one such coveted Seer in particular. He did warn her that was a bit of an oddball, to say the least.

He was also interested in hearing about her experience with Snape over the summer, for a reason unbeknownst to Albany. He knew of her family, he knew of her interests, and his old twinkling eyes took her in, raking through her power and understanding it at its very core. That man truly had a way of knowing nearly everything there is to know about everything. He had her at this damn school for a purpose, and one purpose only. She knew that. She knew he thought of people as pawns, though she couldn't find any fault with it. That was, after all, his way of life.

 

***

 

Albany was particularly talented at charms and herbology. She had found that charms had a literary element to it, defined by inquisitive research and meticulous repetition. It was much like English grammar, which she particularly adored. Flitwick seemed to like her, and secretly admittedly to her that she was his favorite student, promising to even teach her fifth year spells

Herbology was lovely, reminding her of the gardens of home with an element of magic and mystery which she simply adored and relished in. Divination was... with Sybill Trelawney.

Her magic was beginning to terrify her. Channeling her wand proved difficult, made worse by the fact that a phoenix feather was notorious for having this problem with young witches and wizards. Flitwick was very generous with her, giving her slightly higher grades than she deserved, despite accidentally breaking duelling dummies and even several desks and chairs. The other students seemed a bit nervous around her, perhaps a little cautious, knowing that she had no prior training and was somehow placed into her fourth year. How did she manage that?

Sprout simply adored her, smiling brightly at her and commending her for her natural talent for taking care of living plants, considering them to be holy entities rather than worthless, occasionally dangerous shrubs. Oh, if only she knew her past marked by death and flames. She would do well in Herbology, Sprout assured her. She should consider them for her N.E.W.T. exams, she said. She was a lovely woman, Professor Sprout.

Madame Hooch found her aggravating, despite offering her additional classes in flying. Albany had an absolutely terrible fear of heights, and she had fallen three times from her broomstick during class, which definitely got a kick from the rest of the students in her class. She had broken her arm, quickly fixed by Pomfrey, and cracked several ribs, and dislocated her knee upon impact on the grassy ground. Hooch did end up feeling some pity for her, which was much appreciated by Albany.

She could get by in Transfiguration. McGonagall was generous, similar to Flitwick, though she was far more stern. Albany was certainly prone to more errors in her class, comparing its meticulous nature to mathematics. She hadn’t been particularly good at mathematics, only getting by in calculus through gruesome hours of studying. Transfiguration was to be the same, though she found relief in the bright classroom near Gryffindor Tower in contrast to the dank dungeons and potions lab. It was also right near the library, where she found her little corner by one of the grand windows. She would sit and sigh, staring out at the Scottish highlands, lost in concentration, forgetting to study as much as she needed to.

She was Trelawney's absolute favorite. For obvious reasons. However, she never showed it verbally or held Albany after class to talk to her. What she did was she listened to every word uttered from Albany with complete, utmost, exact and intense attention. 

Potions was an absolute nightmare. She had followed Fae’s advice and sat in the back of the class, keeping her head down, brewing with shaking, usually alone. She was far too nervous to ask any fellow students for help, and her sitting in the very back of the class made things worse. She could hardly follow instructions without there being some disaster, made worse by her shaking hands,

She had never touched a gurgling cauldron before, despite Severus offering her basic trainings in spells during the summer, even introducing her to wordless magic, which he was most proficient in. She had the suspicion that Snape wanted her to fail, to tremble under his dark gaze, marked by those black, cold eyes. He would occasionally call on her, and she would whisper that she didn’t know the answer, before she was overwhelmed with the billowing black robes in her peripheral vision as some number of points were taken from Slytherin (counterintuitive, she thought) or she was asked to stay after class and sort through and categorize ingredients.

During these stays she wouldn’t speak, and he would only occasionally bark orders in her direction, all the while brewing potions for the hospital ward with a blank yet calculating look plastered on his face. She would usually stay after class with a few Gryffindors, whose house certainly did not put them in Severus’s favor.

The Gryffindors didn’t seem to like her all that much at first, but eventually pitied her for being one of the few Muggle-Borns in Slytherin’s entire history, and would occasionally pass her notes making fun of Severus’s big nose and the slippery floor, where his ‘grease’ supposedly came from. She wasn’t fond of anyone making fun of anyone, but would grin back at them and give them the smallest chuckle. One of these Gryffindors was a prefect named Jonas Cunningway, who even began flirting with her, albeit after she had gotten rid of her spots by secretly borrowing some of Fae’s magical acne creams.

 

***

 

Some clever Slytherins had taught the merpeople how to use sign language, and upon the rare occasion they would appear at some of the glass windows in the Slytherin common room, students would inquire about their aquatic life and other strange tidings going on in the mythical territory which encompassed Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

One Slytherin student had even bought a wizarding sign language book in British Magical Sign, one of the many wizarding dialects of sign language in the British world. The pictures would move, detailing the motion of the hands and the various sentence constructions one could make. Albany and Mpho would practice together, hoping to reveal some sacral message from the lake.

Finally, when most of the other students were asleep, Albany and Mpho snuck out of their beds and went towards one of the glass windows, charmed to never crack at the risk of flooding the Slytherin common room. They waited patiently before they saw one of the merpeople slowly swimming in the distance. They both began to furiously sign, “Come here!” and eventually their pleas were successful.

 

 _What do you want, humans?_ Albany and Mpho were ecstatic, hoping to learn secrets from the deep, newfound revelations.

 

_We want to talk. About anything. We are curious to get to know you._

 

_I don’t fraternize with children. Much less snakes._

 

 _We respect you._ Mpho had to quickly skim through the dictionary in order to say that phrase. _We have heard that you all sing beautiful songs. We would love to hear them someday._

 

_Humans are not deserving of our songs. Humans do not understand us._

 

_We want to understand others. We can become friends._

 

 _No._ The merperson vanished. Albany and Mpho sighed, and were resigned to return to bed and get enough sleep for the next day’s classes.

 

***

 

Albany dreamed of the merpeople, and she could hear their songs. They were breathtaking, lovely. How could they be scorned in the wizarding world? Why was this world so full of resentment, of judgment, of polarization?

Another detention in the dungeons.

Gillyweed was the ingredient of choice when it came to joining the merpeople. Albany was beginning to feel desperate to hear their enchanting song, to show her respect for the underdogs. She hoped that she could tell that same merperson of her intentions, if he or she was around. What more could she do to improve their relations?

Lighting gracing her fingertips across a particularly large bottle of gillyweed before she felt a cold yet surprisingly gentle grip on her wrist.

“What is it you think you’re doing, Miss Newson?” Severus asked with his signature sneer. There was a spark where his hand touched her wrist, though he drew back immediately as though repulsed by skin-on-skin contact as a general rule. Why did he touch her in the first place?

“Looking at a bottle of gillyweed.” she replied curtly.

“May I ask why you feel entitled enough to rub your grubby prints all over my ingredients? Where exactly, Miss Newson, does your silly interest in gillyweed derive?”

Albany’s blunt honestly was certainly what placed her into Slytherin.

“My friend and I have been communicating with the merpeople with sign language.” Severus raised a single dark eyebrow. “They are so resentful towards humans, towards the magical world. They’re neglected, disregarded, deemed as inferior due to their _half-human_ status. It’s awfully sad, don’t you think?” Something about this statement struck Severus, though he knew that he would never express this. The word ‘half’ was particularly poignant. It brought up memories he didn’t feel ready to deal with nor address.

“You are a rather foolish girl, are you not?” he said quietly, nearly mumbling under his breath. Albany blinked at him.

“May I inquire, Professor, what is so foolish about empathy?”

Severus froze, unable to speak or move for a few moments.

“You may return to your sorting of ingredients. Afterwards, mop up the classroom, ensuring that no spilled ingredients from our local dunderheads remain on the floors. The use of magic is not permitted.”

With that, he stormed off to his office, slamming the door behind him. She was left in his classroom alone, and took up the mop without complaint. She was used to doing things the Muggle way. It didn’t bother her one bit. She couldn’t imagine how aggravating it must be for students accustomed to not moving a muscle and letting their magic do all the work for them.

 

***

 

Halloween was strange, to say the least. Severus had hated the holiday ever since he was a young child. His oppressive and abusive father wouldn’t let him go out and join the kids, though this desire had some relative validity, given the juvenile mayhem that would take place. The children of England had no mercy on their neighbors, egging homes, beating up the elderly, and breaking windows. He and Lily would usually go out to their little spot of blissful wilderness and jump into piles of crisp fallen autumn leaves. Oh, how a little part of his soul, so repressed and so deep down, wanted to learn how to laugh again. Lily had taught him how to, and her abandonment of him had stripped away any semblance of power or happiness. He didn’t laugh after he came to Hogwarts.

Those damn Marauders used Halloween as another excuse to humiliate him, usually in front of as many other students as possible. He remembered one Halloween how they gave him a particularly brutal wedgie, and proceeded to wrap him up in toilet paper that they had taken from the boy’s lavatories.

“Look at Snivellus, the mummy! Dead flesh certainly stinks, maybe that’s why Snivellus always smells like shit and sweat!” James Potter cried, bursting into laughter.

“Fuck off.” he mumbled, desperately tucking in his boxers and ripping off toilet paper. A gaggle of girls were pointing and laughing, and if he had any color left in his chalky skin, he would have blushed.

“Is Snivellus upset? Will he… snivel? Perhaps he can use the toilet paper as a tissue to wipe up his tears!” Sirius Black added in, giving James a high five.

Severus had drawn his wand, recently painted by Ollivander. His hand was shaking. He was still covered in strips of toilet paper.

“Look how his wand has been fixed up! Black… just like his angry soul!” James exclaimed. “I might have to give you a little hex, Snivellus. Mummy will have to go to _mummy_ when I’m through with him. Oh wait… didn’t your mummy die last summer?”

“ _Expelli_ -”

“ _Petrificus totalis_!”

With that, Snape collapsed on the floor adjacent to the transfiguration classroom. Thankfully, McGonagall appeared, but the Marauders had already vanished. Severus was embarrassed to be tended to by the head of the house which tormented him so. She was a kind woman, a good and powerful witch, but this was a moment he so badly wanted to forget.

Why was he having these flashbacks? Good God, he hated this bloody holiday.

 

***

 

When Albany had strutted into the Great Hall, his jaw nearly dropped. She had stolen some of his gillyweed, and was now a fish human hybrid, fixing a bubble of water over her head to keep herself breathing. He immediately decided to give her yet another detention for her blatant thievery. Deep down, he was actually impressed at her daringness to pull off such a strange look. He glanced at the Slytherin table and could see that her housemates though she was absolutely hysterical.

She recognized this hysteria and even strutted in front of them, spinning a few times before bursting out laughing herself, filling the orb of water surrounding her head with bubbles.

He felt a sudden compulsion, as a wave of anger washed over him. He stood up from his place at the teachers table, and stormed over to the Slytherin table, whipping around his robes so as to appear as ominous and intimidating as possible.

“What is it you think you’re doing, Miss Newson?” he snarled. The Slytherins immediately stopped laughing and looked down at their festive dinners.

“I wanted to be like the merpeople. I already told you about them, Professor.”

He was speechless for a few moments, his jaw dropping. The students noticed this, and began to exchange worried glances.

“You. Stole. From. Me.” he said, glaring at her with utter fire in his obsidian eyes.

“I’m sorry. It was the only way I could fulfill my destiny to be a fish.” she said, a wicked grin appearing on her face. “Glub. Glub.” The Slytherins and other overhearing members from other houses burst into a cacophony of roaring laughter.

“A month of detention. Now get out of the Great Hall and go to the dungeons, where you’ll wait until the effects of the gillyweed and your utter foolishness wears off. Though I doubt the latter never will.” he said, storming back to the professors’ table.

Albany looked up towards the teacher’s table and gave them all a thumbs up, with one of her extra cheeky grins. They were smiling, giggling among themselves, enjoying a little bit of mischief from their students now and then.

"That was legendary, Albany!" Barnaby Lee shouted, leaning over from across the table to give her a high-five.

"I enjoyed, uh no... I found that to be entertaining as well." Ismelda mumbled.

Albany sauntered back to the Slytherin Common Room and sat down on one of the couches by the fireplace. The gilleyweed and charm wore off, bursting onto the couch. She cleaned it up with a silent drying charm before heading up to her room. She hadn’t eaten dinner, and she certainly wouldn’t be going back outside to celebrate. She had wanted to make a scene, to aggravate others and to lighten the mood of the students. Hogwarts was a stressful environment. What was so bad about a little bit of fun?

 

***

 

“You are one of the biggest fools I have ever had the displeasure of teaching, Miss Newson.” Severus growled after Albany had broken a vial yet another one of his expensive potions with her sheer clumsiness.

“I really have bad luck when it comes to potions, don’t I?” she laughed. This made Severus even more irritated.

“You are particularly untalented at it, yes.” he said.

“You know, most of the other professors seem to like me quite a lot. It might just be that you’re a scary guy. You freak me out, Professor. You freak out a lot of people. You might want to remedy that if you’re interested in my getting better at potions.”

He was completely shocked by her bluntness and honesty. It was shocking. He had never, in his seven years of teaching, encountered a student like this, much less a _person_.

“You are a twat. Arrogance will not be tolerated. Two more months of detention. Get. Back. To. Work.”

“Sure, Professor.” she mumbled, returning to scrubbing the work stations in the classroom.

“You will treat me with respect, Miss Newson. I will give you detention for the rest of the year if you do not comply. Do you understand?” He was about to completely lose his shit with this blasted girl.

“It’s not like the Muggle world, there’s no university to prepare for. What does detention matter, anyways? I do like this, actually. I like being around you.”

What did she just say?

“How... “ he began, faltering, before he decided to keep his composure, to remain his notorious self-control.

“We’ve spent more time together. I’m just asking you to be generous. Oh, nevermind. I’ll get back to work.” She held up two vials in her hands, clinking them together as though they were cocktails or perhaps a shot of vodka. “Here’s to a year bonding, Professor.”

“Fifteen pages on the history, development, and methods to creating a veritiserum. This will be due on my desk in three days.”

“That’s a fifth year potion…”

“You will write the paper, or you will face more severe consequences.”

“Alright, I’ll give a shot. I can't promise it will be any good, though.”

He sneered, and stormed off to his office. Once there, he slammed his fists against the desk. Who did this bloody girl think she was? He would show his power over her, he would reprimand her, he would silence her, he would punish her straight to hell and back. He had grown accustomed to doing this with most women… wait, she was not yet a woman. Where had this train of thought come from? _You bloody idiot, Sev. Get a grip. Deal with the brat._

 

***

 

Albany’s father had been absolutely convinced that her mother was sleeping with the neighbor across the street. Their neighbor took up residence in the lot where the man Albany had burned into oblivion, after he had a new house for himself. He was a handsome and charming man who claimed to be writing a novel, a trait which Albany knew both of her parents would find alluring, whether or not there was a physical attraction there. Christmas proved to be a dire time in this household, marked by confusion and miscommunication. Albany often found herself stowed away in her attic room, listening to the thuds of her parents’ arguments, occasionally drowning it out with her record player, blasting Kate Bush and getting lost in bizarrist melodies. This time of year was strange, as her birthday was right after Christmas, which was particularly quiet and uneventful this year. She hoped her birthday would be a bit more fun.

“Happy birthday, angel. Come downstairs, I made you a special breakfast.” Her mother’s warm scent engulfed her as she had trekked up to the attic to wake her up.

“Hmmmmpff.” Albany mumbled, wiping the crust from her eyes and tossing away the quilt that she had since she was a young girl.

She followed her mother downstairs, where her father sat at their table smoking a cigarette.

“Darling, would you put that out please?” Albany’s mother asked tentatively.

Albany’s father glared in her direction and proceeded to put out the cigarette on the oak table. They had bought that table at a local flea market. They had considered it invaluable, filled with cozy family memories and a sense of tender unity.

Albany’s mother ignored her husband and sat down, passing a Spanish omelette in Albany’s direction. It was her favorite breakfast food, and she ate in greedily, smiling brightly at both her mother and father, despite the gaze not entirely reciprocated by her grumpy father.

“I suppose you’ll be heading out to town after the _festivities_ have died down.” Albany’s father remarked to his wife.

“No. It’s Albany’s birthday. I’m staying here today.”

“Right. Visiting any neighbors, maybe inviting them here for a little bit of conversation?”

“Stop that right now.” her mother said sternly. A moment of tense silence.

“Stop what? Telling the truth?”

“Today is for Albany.”

“Sure. She ought to know a bit more about her mother then, shouldn’t she?”

“You… are a bastard.”

"Oh, I am the bastard here? Look at yourself once in a while, why don't you? Galavanting around, miss princess you are, thinking that you're such a fucking  _beauty_ , well I'll let you know that you're becoming an old disheveled hag and looks won't last forever!"

"When did I ever even care about my looks?" Albany's mother screamed in protest, standing up from her seat at the kitchen table.

"Well, I've noticed a surge of vanity ever since a particular gentleman moved in across the fucking street!"

Albany quickly finished her omelette, and hurried back to her room. She could hear her parents’ argument vibrating through the floor of her little attic sanctuary.

She was actually excited to go back to Hogwarts. She closed her eyes and saw a confused future. Uncertainty. There was love there too, there was potential. Oh, how she dreamed to make something of her inevitably short life.

 

***

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely love working on this fan fiction. Doing this is honestly so damn cathartic. I have so many thoughts and so much love for Sev, and working all this out is actually really quite reassuring. I love having control over characters and concepts that fascinate me. The power of writing is the element of crafting one's own worlds, of dominating a concept and wielding it in a way that inspires you. I absolutely love this, and I really hope I can work more on this, though my free time is honestly looking a bit dubious as of now...
> 
> Albany is proving to be a bit of a chauvinist know-it-all. Very Slytherin, I must say. Arrogance is one of the main faults of members of this house. I think the other Slytherins might be warming up to her, despite her blood status... but we'll see what happens in the next few chapters.
> 
> Turning 17 was weird for me. It's an awkward time. You're not quite a legal adult, but you don't really feel like a real teenager. Also, life is crazy stressful for 17 year olds. It's not fair.
> 
> ~~~
> 
> Again, here are some music that encapsulates the moods of this chapter. Hope you all enjoy!
> 
> 1\. (Don't Fear) The Reaper (Blue Öyster Cult): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ClQcUyhoxTg ~ gotta love that infamous cowbell!
> 
> 2\. Hounds of Love (Kate Bush): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VerK4zwMRQw
> 
> 3\. Ocean Man (Ween): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tkzY_VwNIek
> 
> 4\. Ah Love is Oceanic Pleasure (Larkin Grimm): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Ff-PBX981I
> 
> 5\. Dead Man's Party (Oingo Boingo): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iypUpv9xelg
> 
>  
> 
> (very Halloween and ocean themed, I know)
> 
> SPOTIFY PLAYLIST: https://open.spotify.com/user/mooniemoe/playlist/1BftWaSHedV8PHnvuicKXB?si=LKrxiuVEQ165ytubpi2V2w


	6. Neverending... Story?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One thing about this fan fiction, as well as me personally, is that I do not hold back from harsh topics. Personally I've been through a lot, even though I am quite young. I've been sexually assaulted, I've tried to commit suicide, I've been to a psych ward, I've been bullied, I've been abused... So please, let me tell you know, if you're sensitive, this is absolutely not for you. Please, take care of yourself and don't read if such things are triggering for you.
> 
> Albany and Fae have a fight, Severus gets really angry, Albany faces her worst fear, and a certain Gryffindor prefect seems to like quirky Slytherin girls. There is definitely a high demand for manic pixie dream girls, especially in 1988. Or, at least I think so. I'm objectively an expert on 80s music and film.
> 
> *Use of slurs towards mentally handicapped people and LGBTQ+ people.  
> *Domestic abuse.  
> *There is also some making out in this chapter, but not quite smut.
> 
> DISCLAIMER:
> 
> I have no intention to use this language to express personal opinions or beliefs, it is solely the language of one character in particular. If you are triggered by such language, this might not be the best thing for you to read.)

 

***

 

Fae faced her, her acacia wand marked by a dragon heartstring core, rather short in length, measuring around 9 and a half inches, pointed directly at her chest. A crowd of students had gathered in the Courtyard, all rounds of gobstones totally interrupted.

“Fight me, you _mudblood_. I dare you.”

“Don’t call me that. I thought it was a silly word, but the implications… how dare you? We’ve slept in the same room all year. Are you going to throw away everything, whatever we were, over something so stupid?”

Albany had recently come to understand the real implications of that slur. At first, it sounded dumb and infantile. She could later come to realize that such words held power over her, and over others like her. She didn’t like it one bit.

“Don’t try to talk down to me, Newson! You may be older than me, but I will stupefy the shit out of you until you apologize!”

“I was making an observation, Fae. That’s it.”

“You have no right to talk about my parents!” Fae was infuriated, her face growing red, her eyes brimming with tears, her black eye makeup dripping slightly down her face.

“I saw a vision. You know I have those.” Albany said, her voice growing quiet. People were beginning to gather, clearly fascinated by Fae’s little secret.

Albany had woken up Fae one day after having a nightmare, telling her that her father’s soul was nearly completely consumed by the dementors in Azkaban.

He had been a Death Eater. Fae wasn’t exactly proud of this fact, despite her bigoted statements from time to time and slight proclivity to favor blood purity. She had been worried about him, feeling it was necessary to tell Fae about her father’s condition. Fae hadn’t responded that morning, but had cornered her in the Courtyard after Transfiguration, propositioning a duel.

“Take out your fucking wand, Newson.” she snarled.

Slowly, Albany took her wand out from her robes, and assumed a dueling stance. She had never duelled before, she had only watched demonstrations from other professors.

“May I ask what kind of nonsense you little fourth years are up to?” It was Bill. The eldest Weasley. He was an object of disdain for most in the Slytherin house, but Albany genuinely liked the guy. His irritated tone made her like him all the more. He was a rather handsome bloke with shoulder-length red hair. He came from a well-known pureblood house, rather progressive in their wizarding politics. Albany had been tempted to get to know him a bit better, though she feared he would be resentful of her due to her house. It was almost shameful to be called out by him, as she had always respect him and considered him to be a genuinely good guy. It was strange being reprimanded by him, as they were the same age. It was an odd reminder of what felt like her own inferiority, despite her own unique circumstances.

“This is all just a little spit, nothing more. I’m going to call it off anyway.” Albany assured him, looking at him with nervous, almost ravenous eyes.

Bill raised an eyebrow. He was so comfortable he didn’t even feel the need to draw his wand. They weren’t members of his own house, anyways, and perhaps he was curious about where this little ‘duel’ would go.

“Let’s start with something fun, Newson. _Rictusempra!_ ”

Albany immediately blocked this spell with a flick of her wand and a mumbled ‘ _protego_ ’. Fae glared at her and tried another spell.

“ _Flipendo!_ ” This spell hit hard, blasting Albany backwards until she hit one of the stone walls surrounding the Courtyard. She slowly got back up, deciding to engage.

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ” she casted, immediately disarming Fae. “ _Confundo, Depulso, Aquamenti.”_ She had essentially blurted out a slew of spells that would lead to Fae’s utter humiliation.

There she say on the cobblestones of the Courtyard, her robes completely soaked. Her makeup was dripping off her face, revealing the collection of freckles she had tried so adamantly to hide. Her hair was plastered across her face, and her teeth were chattering due to the cold water. She looked like she was about to cry. Her fine, expensive, tailored robes looked absolutely ruined, and her wand was tossed aside her. The disarming charm was so relentless, and rather sloppy, that it had nearly broken her wand, which would have been rather horrible, Albany admitted to herself. No one deserved a broken wand.

“ALBANY NEWSON!” Oh shit... It was McGonagall. Bill had hurried up towards her office and lead her downstairs. The bastard. Well, he was doing his duties as prefect, who’s to judge that?

“What in the world do you think you’re doing?” McGonagall gasped, hurrying over to Fae’s limp, wet, and very dizzy body. Albany couldn’t say any response. There was no justification for what she did.

“This is absolutely irreprehensible. Twenty points from Slytherin.” She turned to Fae and cast a drying charm, reaching out her hand to help her up. Fae glared at Albany with fire in her eyes. They were both equally fucked over for their behavior, and they knew it. They had cost house points through their foolishness. It was maddening for the both of them.

“Fae… I’m sorry. I was impulsive, I didn’t mean it…”

“Save it for later, Albany. And go fuck yourself!” Fae muttered, stomping out of the Courtyard, dizzy and disorientated, stumbling a bit, grasping the edges of the door towards the Great Hall.

“Language!” McGonagall said, storming after Fae down the hall, both to reprimand and to console her, and to possibly bring her to Pomfrey for a quick visit.

The Courtyard became completely silent. Albany could feel the glaring eyes of other students watching her, judging her, utterly confused by her behavior. Albany sighed, knowing she couldn’t return to their dorm room right now, and proceeded to the library, hoping to read up on the history of divination of centaurs or some other fun mythical creature to get her mind off of her mistakes. She seemed to be making so many lately...

 

***

 

It was not surprising that charged looks were made between Albany and Severus, as no doubt he took every opportunity to call her out for the tiniest error in organization of ingredients on the shelves of his office. She was instructed to wipe away the dust and sort alphabetically without magic, though this was not something out of the ordinary in her Muggle life back home in Blacksfield.

He could see that she was quite nervous, despite her otherwise daring and arrogant outbursts, her hands shaking ever so slightly as she took up a bottle of mandrake root, then griffin claw, and then a few pickled dragon scales. He would most certainly lash out if she were to drop one of his precious vials, despite knowing that this would terrify her even further.

She could see her briefly take glances in his direction, brushing her lovely hair behind her ear. Snape suddenly felt a compulsion to reach for it, to touch it, to see how it ran through his fingers, to bury his face in it and relish in its scent. However, he pushed such thoughts out of his mind and reminded himself that he was a dirty, kinky, ugly, repulsive, morally questionable greasy bat who deserved nothing. How old was she again? Definitely older than the other fourth years… He was a _pervert_ , he thought to himself, preying on this girl, an innocent young girl full of voracity and liveliness and a sharp tongue to boot, although this all was in his own mind. His own mind was a trap, a cruel and sadistic one at best, trapped in a cycle of obsession over the person he had loved the most. She was lively, she was cunning, she had lovely hair and a sharp tongue to boot. She was empathetic, a trait rather rare amongst Slytherins.

 _Just like Lily_ , he thought.

He then felt repulsed by himself again, nearly sick to his stomach, reminding himself that she was dead, the past is the past… but how could he forget? That would be a dishonor. How was he allowing such thoughts to seep through his corrupted mind? He felt disgusted by himself, and returned to pretending to busy himself grading abhorrent, poorly written second-year papers.

Albany was quite aware that Snape was one of the most accomplished legilimens in the wizarding world. Obviously he would not be the one to boast about his talents, but the word had spread around the upperclassmen that sometimes he would peek into the minds of students and then chuckle at their immaturity or their intellectual mediocrity. She hadn’t been public about her own abilities, and despite her lack of control, she had frequently exercised her abilities on her fellow Slytherins just to see their discriminatory mantras and their disdain for her. She could hear the voices of others, see the flashing images of their past and concerns and preoccupations. Sometimes it felt overwhelming. She considered asking her professor for advice, but was nervous as to what he would say. He likely would refuse to work with her, she thought. That was typical Professor Snape, after all. She was sure he was fed up with having to work with her or to simply be in her presence. C'est la vie.

After her duties arranging potion ingredients, she was to write a paper on the importance of authority, punishment, and systematic control. She thought it was Stalinist and crude. Was Professor Snape a fucking Stalinist?! Severus heard this thought flitter through his mind, and found it a bit amusing. No, he wasn't, but he was rather interested in what this girl had to say about authority, and what exactly she could glean by his enforcing it.

“I have heard that you humiliated and injured a student two days ago, Newson.” Severus said suddenly, breaking their rather tense silence. “A fellow Slytherin. Now what is the purpose of doing such a thing?” Why did this damn girl make him engage in small talk? He hated small talk.

“She’s my roommate. We got into a little spat about… well, I saw her father. I saw him… in Azkaban.” Snape grew tense. “I’ve been doing some reading about Azkaban. A lot of the politics there reminds me of issues in the Muggle world with the death sentence and all that crap. It’s really quite interesting. Do criminals deserve to be assaulted repeatedly by dementors, who suck out all the happiness of them? Shouldn't criminals learn more about happiness and joy, as their actions came from being deprived of such a thing? I mean... it just doesn't make sense to me at all. Has no one ever even considered this?” Albany found herself losing control of her tongue, speaking passionately about issues she found distressing, as she always did. She couldn't ever hold her damn tongue.

“You have sympathy for murderers and followers of the Dark Lord, Miss Newson?” He was genuinely curious this time, rather than just snarky. He was quite interested in her answer, as it was... relevant... to his own interests.

“That’s a loaded statement if I’ve ever heard one. Oh, Professor Snape… I…” She couldn’t finish her sentence. “I can’t talk about this.”

Of course, Severus had pushed one of his students into talking about his deepest shame, his biggest regret in his pathetic life. She knew something, and it terrified him. She would never tell, she was a loyal girl, just as he was. They had much in common. He almost began to panic, feeling something akin to it welling in his chest, his heartbeat increasing rapidly. He returned to his desk to grade papers, leaving her to write her essay on the importance of discipline and respect for institutions. He knew that she would dislike this topic in particular, and he was quite curious as to what she would write. Admittedly, she was a rather talented writer, though her sarcastic tone leaked through her pen and was often rather aggravating. Her writing personified her aura to a T.

“You know, you might be one of my favorite teachers, Professor.” she said, overwhelmed with a surge of Gryffindor bravery, completely out of nowhere during a prolonged silence as the two scribbled away with their quills.

“Excuse me?” he said, looking up from the sordid papers he was currently grading.

“You’re _interesting_ , you know? A lot of the professors here are nice, smart, talented, and decent people, but sometimes lacking in personality and _depth_ , you know?” she said. She seemed... honest? This girl was an absolute enigma.

“Please return to your paper, Miss Newson.” he grumbled, a bit taken aback by her frankness and interest in him as a person. No one, absolutely no one, had ever been interested in him as a person. He was repulsive, crude, snarky, cruel, sarcastic, dark, ugly, mean, and resentful. Why would anyone waste their time being  _interested_ with him, much less this bubbling, blundering idiot of a schoolgirl.

“How old are you?” she asked suddenly.

The shelves filled with potions and vials suddenly began to shake, and Albany watched, completely unphased, as Severus’s knuckles turned white as he attempted to suppress his sheer anger and agitation.

“Why is it that you try to make my every waking a moment a living hell? Are you TRYING to get out of detention by annoying the bloody hell out of me?!?” he screamed, standing up suddenly, ink spilling across several papers. He didn’t seem to notice, much less care.

“No, I didn’t think of that actually. That’s actually quite a good idea. If that does get me out of detention, I would gladly accept the offer…” she began.

“GET OUT OF MY OFFICE!” he bellowed.

She stood up slowly, glaring at him with the slightest bit of anger in her eyes.

"Should I finish the essay?"

"FORGET ABOUT THE ESSAY!" he said, his fists slamming on his desk, spilling papers, vials, and ink. He didn't seem to mind, as he was completely consumed in his rage.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Professor.” she said in her suave alto voice, walking slowly out of the office, stroking a few of the vials, giving him a wink, closely the door softly behind her.

The damn girl was mocking him! He was absolutely certain of it! Oh, she would pay for this. He would make potions a living nightmare for her. He even grinned at the thought of it. Oh, she had no idea what was coming.

 

***

"Let's see if we can mess up Snivellus's potion, why don't we? You know he'll get so angry about it, the poor thing. It'll be absolutely hilarious!" James said, nudging Sirius, who immediately smiled wickedly at him. Peter joined in, huddling close to them and smiling with his crooked buck teeth. Remus simply rolled his eyes, returning to the potion which he had been currently struggling to brew. 

 Slughorn was always oblivious to the Marauder's little games as they tried their best to sabotage Severus's potions. Usually they were unsuccessful, as the damned oily twat always seemed to be able to correct whatever attempt they made at ruining his potion. This damned kid always seemed to know how to brew every potion to perfection. Slughorn would have loved him more if he had been... a bit more aesthetically pleasing. The slimeball was always quiet, his big, ugly nose buried in a book. He had little interest in Slughorn's exclusive dinner parties, despite being reluctantly invited. He had only attended one, clearly disliking it immensely. He had not returned.

Severus had gotten up, heading towards the shelves to collect another ingredient he had forgotten, while James and Sirius took random ingredients from the shelves and dumped them into his cauldron, which promptly turned red and started to boil, spilling over the sides and burning holes through Severus's work station. 

When Severus came back with his ingredient he looked at the cauldron and scowled at the Marauders, who were in a fit of giggles. With a swish of his wand, the cauldron was emptied and the workspace was repaired. The Marauders were, admittedly, a bit jealous of his mastery of wordless magic. He wouldn't dare teach anyone, as this skill was his pride and joy, his little private secret.

He returned to his cauldron, having to start from scratch, but working swiftly and efficiently, scribbling away in his copy of Advanced Potion-Making before swiftly finishing his potion, slamming his textbook shut and glaring at the Marauders with his pitch-black eyes. Slughorn came over and gave his seal of approval, dismissing him. Severus packed up his things and swiftly left the classroom.

"I can't believe that filthy bastard. He thinks he's so much better than everyone else, but he has the nerve to call Lily a mudblood. What a fucking bastard." James muttered, his eyes narrowed, following Severus as he left the classroom. "He's into dark arts, I heard. Definitely going to join Voldemort, that one. He's an evil sonofabitch. I'm glad I saved Lily."

"Maybe we should pay him a visit? How's tonight?" Sirius asked with a devilish smirk. Peter nodded along eagerly.

"Let's do it!" Peter cried, only to be hushed by Remus, as Slughorn glanced in their direction.

Later that night before curfew, Severus was heading out from the library. He had been studying methods for creating spells, as that had lately begun to fascinate him after he learned of the Dark Lord creating different torture spells. He was morbid like that, always interested in darkness and brutality. He had certainly gotten that trait from his father, though he wouldn't admit it. He still stayed in contact with Lucius after he graduated, who had been working hard to sway his opinions to blood purity. Severus had begun to associate his father with a generalized view of Muggles as absolute swine. It was easy for Lucius to manipulate him. He was young, isolated, lonely, resentful, and most of all, truly depressed. He had been cutting his already mutilated body for years. His collection of scars was growing, and he was even ashamed to take showers so as to expose his naked body towards even the air around him. He always wore long sleeves, and used black to hide himself, praying that no one would take notice of him, hoping that his dark attire would ask any semblance of his body's natural shape... which was long, gangly, and horribly scrawny. Oh, how he loathed himself.

"Snivellus!" Oh shit. " _Slugulus Eructo_!" Severus couldn't see who cast the spell before it hit him, as he was taken from behind with his guards completely down. He had been secretly reading smuggled books from the Restricted Section, scribbling more notes into his copy of Advanced Potion Making, and praying that Pince wouldn't notice that he put a few books in his bag without bothering to check them out. She wouldn't have to know.

Severus immediately began to puke up slugs, dropping his library books in shock, spittle running down his face onto the floor. Students who were passing by stopped to point and laugh in his direction. Severus tried to pick up his things and hurry back to the dungeons, but he was overcome with nausea and couldn't seem to stop the relentless tide of slugs coming from his mouth, the slugs soiling his textbooks, quills, and parchment. He was absolutely humiliated. The Marauders all burst into laughter, hurrying down the hallway back towards the Gryffindor Common Room.

_What did I do to them? What do they want from me?_

Then he saw her. Lily. Looking at him with pity, but no longer reaching out to him, forgiving him. He was sure she thought he deserved it, given his behavior and his interest in the dark arts. She wouldn't understand... Sure, she was a Muggle-Born witch, but she wasn't like the others. At this time, he genuinely believed Muggles and Muggle-Borns to be inferior, though Lily was the exception, for sure. She didn't believe that however, not since he uttered that filthy word during a fit of anger. 

He couldn't call out to her, he couldn't speak. All he could do was vomit slugs, fight back tears, and ignore the relentless laughter that swarmed his ears.

 

***

 

Fae had an abundance of plans for Albany. Their relationship had become conversational at best when they were in the room, although there was still an underlying tension between them. Admittedly, Fae was jealous of the number of loyal friends Albany had. That Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were actually quite nice. She was even a bit jealous of the attention Albany got from that handsome Gryffindor charming goody two-shoes prefect sonofabitch.

Why should she be jealous? Gryffindors were absolute trash. At least her other friends were from tolerable houses. Then there was that weirdo, Mpho. They were inseparable. There were rumours going around that Mpho was a fairy. It was always so funny to see him drool at one of the Slytherin prefects, Arnold Slythorn. He was an absolute dreamboat, and he certainly preferred women. Poor Mpho, little Mpho, so innocent and so stupid. For some reason, Albany took him under her wing, probably because no other Slytherins were willing to get close to her.

 _She thinks she’s above us all just because she’s older._ Fae thought. _Little does she know that she may be older, but she’s definitely fucking retarded, that stupid bitch. Only in her bloody fourth year… She’s no better than us. She’s a mudblood, for Christ’s sake!_

Fae had spoken with her mother about delivering her a trunk with one of her favorite toys. Her mother had always used this little sadistic party trick to entertain her guests, to test them, to better understand their strengths and weaknesses. As it was approaching the end of their fourth year, Fae was growing a bit heady, praying that her revenge would be successful. After the events of last year and the hysterics that her little surprise had caused for most of the school, Fae knew that she would be bound to get a reaction, a big reaction, at that. 

She was curious about Albany’s response to her little surprise, to what she could draw from her. She could learn her darkest secrets, and she could learn her weaknesses. She would finish the year powerful, proving that a cunning 15-year-old can ruin a little mudblood 17-year-old anyday. She smiled at the thought of her _delicious_ plan. Her father would be proud of her. Maybe not. Who knows. He was always a spiteful man. Fae had never been worthy enough in his eyes. He had always wanted a son.

Right after Charms, Fae approached Albany in a fairly empty corridor.

“Albany, I want to apologize. We should work some things out. We can even become proper friends, if you want.” Fae said, suddenly deciding that she’d rather just _see_ Albany’s boggart, just to get a glimpse into her psyche. Who the hell was this girl, and who the hell did she think she was? She decided not to torment her with it. Maybe they could be friends… maybe.

“Sure, Fae. I honestly would love that. Sincerely.” Albany said.

“We should talk somewhere more private. There’s a little supply room down the hall that way. It’s spacious enough and private. It’s a bit hard to find, too. I know people go to snog in there, and no, I definitely don’t want to snog you. We’re just gonna talk, okay?”

“That sounds good to me. Let’s go.” Albany replied.

They headed towards the supply room, which was indeed tucked into a bizarre corner down the hallway, and went inside.

“Fae, I really didn’t mean to hurt you during our duel. My magic is… unpredictable. I’ve never had training until this year. As someone who’s older than you, I should have behaved better. I’m really sorry.” Albany said, her tone genuine.

“It’s… It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” Fae mumbled. She wasn’t used to this kind of respect from others. Hell, it actually felt nice.

“Didn’t you want to talk more?” Albany remarked.

Fae remembered her plan. She considered bailing out, but she knew her mother would love her little schoolgirl tomfoolery, and so she turned her direction to the chest she had been sent from home, feigning extreme interest.

“That chest… damn, it looks like there’s treasure in there or something. I've never seen anything like it... how _vintage_.” she remarked.

“Oh, you’re right. It does look like a pirate chest or something.” Albany said, wondering where this change of topic was coming from.

“Maybe we should see what’s in there?”

“I thought we were supposed to be talking.” Albany was growing slightly suspicious, and Fae could tell.

“Yeah, I mean, we can talk afterwards. I seriously want to see what’s in there. Can you open it for me? I landed kind of weirdly on my wrists after you blasted me. Pomfrey didn’t quite fix them up, she was a bit busy and didn’t really pay attention to me when I dropped by the hospital wing.”

Albany was a bit too trusting, believing that they had developed some kind of understanding.

“Alright, sure.” She reached out and unlocked the trunk, only to be confronted by her absolute worst fear.

 

***

 

Fae ran out of the storeroom, equally terrified by what she saw, impulsively locking the door of the storeroom behind her and running as fast as she could back to the dungeons.

It was her neighbor, holding his cat, burning alive. His flesh was melting, turning black. The cat’s fur was charred, disintegrating, falling from its body. The screams, the screams were piercing.

She began to scream herself, holding her hands over her ears, backing up against the door of the storeroom, only to have the boggart slowly approach her, the charred hands of her ex-neighbor reaching out to her, begging for pity, wailing and wailing, screaming and screaming, experiencing one of the worst slow deaths imaginable.

Her screams reached the ears of one Severus Snape, who had been heading towards Dumbledore’s office for an urgent meeting regarding some… sensitive information.

He hurried towards the source of the noise, and quickly cast an alohomora on the door of one of the castle’s more discrete storerooms. He quickly prayed that no student was being assaulted in there, or crucio’d. It had happened before. There was always strange things going on in storerooms in the castle. He had been locked in here once himself. _No. No more trips down memory lane, Sev…_ He jerked open the door and Albany flew backwards. She had been leaning on the door, too stunned to cast a simple unlocking charm to get out of her predicament. He understood. This worst fear was absolutely, utterly repulsive. A burning man and his cast, twisting in agony, reaching out to touch her. _Awfully specific_ , he thought to himself. He stood in front of her, reaching out his arms so as to protect her. Of course, the image of the master of Spinner’s End appeared, sneering at him past his large nose, the same ugly nose he himself possessed. He drew his jet-black wand.

“ _Riddikulus!_ ” he shouted, reducing his father to the image of a baby in diapers and a bed, a large, highly comical pacifier hanging out of his mouth. The boggart flew back into the trunk, and then it was all over.

He turned back to Albany and saw her crouched on the crowd, her uniform a complete disheveled mess, actually scorched by the flames of the boggart, hands clutching the stone floor of the castle, her face completely red, tears and snot rolling down her face as she sobbed uncontrollably, eventually glancing up at him, begging for comfort, consolation, which he knew he could not offer her.

“Are you alright, Miss Newson?” he asked, almost in a whisper. Students had begun to gather, and he barked at them to be on their way to class.

“No… That was… a boggart? I read about them… I didn’t… I didn’t… I didn’t expect them to be… so horrible. They… they… really do show… your worst fear.” she said through uncontrollable sobs and sniffles. “Who was that man, Professor?” _Anything but this question._

Severus didn’t reply. He reached out her hand and helped her up. She clutched in firmly, a bit too firmly for his liking. Her soft hands felt slick, catching a bit on his calloused ones, and she looked at him with such a tenderness. He didn’t deserve such tenderness. Why did she look at him with such tenderness?

“If… if you need anyone to talk to, we can… talk about it one day… if you’re comfortable with...” What were these words coming out of his mouth? _You’re a fool, Sev. Don’t let people in, much less an ignorant, bratty little Muggle-Born Slytherin like this one._

“Okay. Thank you, Professor. I have to get to Muggle Studies. Thank you.” she said before hurrying off, wiping her nose on the sleeves of her robes, not entirely realizing that her robes were actually still singeing.

Students had appeared again, surrounding Severus in the hallway.

“Get. To. Class.” he growled in his most menacing tone before going into the storeroom and picking up the chest. "The Cursed Vault has been broken! This is a fluke, a moronic little prank intended to harass another student and stir up some unpleasant memories for us. Do. Not. Panic. If you have any information, do tell either me or Professor Dumbledore. Immediately. Now. Get. To. Class."

Here was another thing he could mention to Albus in their meeting. Oh, the bastard. He demanded so much from him. Severus didn’t know how much more he could take. There was a storm coming, indeed. He had to reckon with the eventual arrive of Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. Why was his life such a living hell?

 

***

 

"You think that you can go behind my back and sneak off to your little magic school, do ya' boy?" Tobias sneered, holding a crowbar that he had gotten from his construction job.

"No... I..."

"Do you think I'm a bloody idiot?"

"No..."

"No, SIR."

"No, sir."

"If I see another fucking owl flapping around this house, you will pay for this, you little bitch. You'll rot in hell." he sneered, looking back and forth between his wife and son, eyes flickering, deciding how to proceed with this much-needed punishment. "You'll receive five blows. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." Severus said, bending down into what resembled a child's pose before his father, his body shaking uncontrollably.

"Tobias, please. Please... just let him be..." Eileen begged, grabbing her husband's wrist, staring deep into his eyes. Tobias scoffed.

"This is all because of you, you know. You and your  _magic_. You're a  _freak_ , Eileen. You did all this. You are the one responsible... You ruined everything!" Tobias said, slamming the crowbar across her head.

Severus winced at the sound of the crack of the skull and the primal, piteous cry of his mother. He stood up slowly, not knowing what to do, only feeling the all-consuming blood rush of flight. He hurried up to his room and slammed the door, listening to the sound of hits and the screams of his mother. He was sure that he would stop, as he always did. Suddenly, the screams stopped, but the hits continued. He began to panic. Tears did not well up his eyes. He was in a state of shock, not knowing what to do. He began to panic, not knowing if he could leave the safety of his room or not. 

"EILEEN!" He heard his father scream; it was primal, it was raw, it was painfully real. His continued to scream her name, over and over again.

Severus finally got the courage to leave his room, head down the stairs, albeit very slowly. It felt like his world was in slow motion. 

His father was clutching his mother in his arms, sobbing hysterically. Her face was battered; she was unrecognizable.

"She made me do it... she made me do it..."

 

***

 

“You know that Jonas likes you, right?” Belle said, twisting a lock of her shiny black hair on her index finger. "Penny told me that it was obvious, since she knows all the gossip around Hogwarts.

The four friends were sitting outside, lounging by the lake under an oak tree as they had always done. This was becoming their tradition.

“Oh. I didn’t really know that. I thought he was just being nice.” Albany replied, her head resting on Belle’s lap as Andrea furiously worked on her Defense Against the Dark Arts paper on the Cruciatus Curse and its use throughout wizarding history.

“Boys aren’t nice, Albany. Unless they want something, of course. That’s why I’m a lesbian.” Belle said with a chuckle. “Well, no. I mean, that’s not the real reason. I’m being silly. The real reason is that I couldn't get into dick even if I tried. It's just... so disgusting looking, honestly.”

“Well, consider yourself lucky in that regard. Girls seem so much more emotionally available. I wish I was into them.” Andrea remarked, still scribbling madly on her parchment.

“Mpho, I know you have a crush on that sexy Slytherin prefect of yours. Arnold Slythorn… he’s so gorgeous.” Andrea said with a soft smile. “If only he wasn’t such a dunderhead. He once asked me, a bloody fourth year, for help studying for his N.E.W.T. exams. Just because I’m a Ravenclaw doesn’t mean I’m all-knowing! Also, why would he ask me, of all people?”

“Maybe he likes you.” Mpho said with a bit of resentment in his voice.

“I doubt that.” Andrea said, returning to working on her paper. “Can we talk about Albany some more, please?”

“I think you’re kind of hard to get, Albany. That’s why he hasn’t done anything yet. You should approach him.” Belle remarked.

“But what if he doesn’t actually like me back? What if I make a complete arse of myself in front of all those damn Gryffindors… they all hate me, they’d love to see me make a fool of myself.”

“Fuck them then! Just try it out. Plus, he’s around your age, so what harm is there? You’re probably sick of us youngsters, always lacking your lovely 17-year-old wisdom and experience.” Belle joked.

She was quite the character. She had quite the tongue for a Hufflepuff, but her compassion was truly limitless.

“You deserve someone, Albany. You haven’t even dated anyone before!” She leaned over and wrapped her arms around Albany’s neck and shoulders. “Do it for me, honey bun.” She gave Albany a little peck on the cheek. She always called her ‘honey bun’ because of her hair, she said. Albany always blushed when she used that cute little term of endearment. Albany felt her face go red.

“Alright, fine. I’ll do it if you bloody leave me alone.” Albany said, feigning agitation.

And so the four of them sat underneath the oak tree, nestled in their casual clothes and knitted sweaters, enjoying being outside before the cold became completely intolerable. They all cared deeply for each other, promising, nearly making a Vow but then deciding that was a bit extreme, to stay loyal to each other, to stay in contact after they graduated. Andrea wanted to be a scholar of sorts, perhaps a professor at Hogwarts even, though she wasn't particularly picky as to where she would teach. She loved children, and loved the idea of inspiring their collective minds even more. Mpho wanted to work with dragons, or maybe just for the Ministry if dragons proved to be a bit too frightening in person. Belle wanted to own a little cosmetic shop in Hogsmeade, mixing her own products, as she was quite adept in potions' class.

"What do you want to do, Albany?" they all asked her.

"I don't know... I think I'd want to be a writer." she replied.

"Oh, please, dear God, don't become another Rita Skeeter! We don't need any more of those in the world..." Mpho cried.

"Of course not. That bitch wrote about me in The Prophet, for Christ's sake! Why would I ever want to be such an exploitative jerk like her? No, I want to write fiction. Something that speaks to our generation, that inspires the mind..."

"Like Gilderoy Lockheart?" Belle asked sarcastically.

"God no, those books are abhorrent. I mean, I don't know much about wizarding books or anything, mostly Muggle literature. It's what I was raised on."

"My mom is absolutely obsessed with him," Belle remarked. "She has a framed portrait of the fap hidden in her lingerie drawer, so my father doesn't bother to look in there. They haven't had sex in years!"

"Ew, gross..." Mpho muttered. "Why the hell do you even know that?" Belle shrugged.

"It's... it's just difficult being here and having parents who... they can't understand, you know? They're not even allowed to be here, this place is hidden from Muggles entirely. I have to walk for about an hour just to reach the nearest town where I have to go into a shady pub and use their rotary phone just to call them once a week. It's a bit of a nightmare." Albany mumbled.

"You can borrow my owl, if you want." Andrea said.

"No, it's okay. I don't think my father would like it if an owl started showing up at our house regularly. The phone call is fine. It is more comforting to them, it kind of eases their concerns for me. They can pretend I go to a non-magic school that way. It's just... better for the both of them, you know?" Albany said.

"I suppose I get it. My grandparents on my mother's side are Muggles. We don't really see them that often, but they're super nice. Really simple people, you know?" Belle remarked. Albany smiled weakly at her attempt to be relatable.

"Albany, you know we're here for you, right? Those blood purists in your house can fuck off. Really. We're here for you, and we'll duel any bastard who tries to hurt you or talk down to you. Do you understand?" Andrea said, holding out her pinky. "Swear that you'll let us help you." The others all brought their pinkies together, forming a conglomeration of digits. Albany sighed, adding her pinky into the mix.

"Thanks guys. I love you all."

"We love you too!"

 

***

 

“Jonas… hi. I was wondering, would you like to go to The Leaky Cauldron with me to get a drink?” Albany said incredibly quickly, averting her eyes to the floor. She had caught him right outside the Gryffindor common room, where she had admittedly been waiting.

“Albany! Of course, I would love to! I actually meant to ask you myself. I’ve been meaning to do some shopping in Hogsmeade and would love for you to join me.” He smiled, trying to put on his most dashing Gryffindor display. She was already envious of his self confidence.

“Okay, thank you. I’m afraid I don’t really have any money to spend on anything, just a few galleons…”

“It’s alright. It’ll be my treat. That is the responsibility of a gentleman, is it not?” he said with an overwhelmingly charming smile. He reached out and took her cold hands in his. “I honestly can’t believe you’ve asked me. I’ve had a secret little crush on you, Albany. I think you’re beautiful. Truly.” His eyes were genuine. No one had ever looked at her like that before, and it was simply breathtaking.

Albany blushed, looking down at the floor.

“I’ll pick you up at the Great Hall on Saturday during lunch. See you then.” he said, before heading down the corridor towards his next class.

A few Gryffindors were watching this exchange, pointing, not necessarily judging, but rather intrigued to see a Slytherin and a Gryffindor sharing a relatively tender moment.

"Albany, are you alright?" Ben Copper, a timid little Gryffindor in her year, tentatively asked. "You look like you're about to be sick."

"I'm fine, thank you, Ben." she said, although she definitely felt like she was going to faint.

"Do you need me to get Angelica...?"

"No, I'll be fine."

Albany looked over at the crowd of concerned Gryffindors who had gathered a bit blankly. She blushed, and ran back downstairs to go to her flying class with Hooch.

 

***

 

Albany sat in the Great Hall, nervously wringing her hands together. Soon, Jonas came over to the Slytherin table, receiving several confused looks from his house rivals.

“Would you take my arm, madam?” he declared, drawing numerous glances from Albany’s fellow Slytherins.

"Oh, for fuck's sake..." Merula mumbled, nearly slamming her head into her soup.

"Kill me now." Ismelda said. What was new?

Albany blushed, stood up, and took the dashing Gryffindor prefect's arm, letting him lead her out of the Great Hall and onward to Hogsmeade. She could hear the eruption of gossip at the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables the moment she and Jonas laughed. She couldn’t help but smile at the attention.

They spent some time at The Leaky Cauldron, where Jonas bought her three butterbeers which she consumed greedily while he watched her. He was surprisingly nonjudgmental, not being bothered by his date chugging down butterbeer like the world was coming to an end.

He took her to Zonko’s Joke Shop, where Jonas ran into one of his good friends Tonks and talked with her for ten minutes while Albany awkwardly stood a few feet away, and proceeded to buy Albany Hiccoughing Sweets and Dungbombs to use on anyone who would try to bother her. In his words, _“People are really jealous of you, Albany”._

He took her to Honeydukes and bought anything her heart desired. Albany assumed that he must be from a rather rich wizarding family, as it seemed like he had an endless supply of galleons on hand. Being the Slytherin she was, she was a bit selfish, hoarding sweets that she could hide and covet in her dorm. Jonas genuinely seemed to enjoy seeing her happy, and Albany was amazed that anyone could even care for her happiness, for her welfare, and for her pleasure. She had never been bought things before, and Jonas seemed perfectly happy to spend and spend and spend. Albany didn’t necessarily think of the implications of this.

Jonas told her about this strange abandoned shack deep in the heart of Hogsmeade, telling her that he and some of his friends were working hard to figure out the entrance without breaking that bloody enigma of a building down from the outside. There were rumours about werewolves and dementors and ghosts frequenting the dilapidated shack. The brave, consummate Gryffindor wanted desperately to investigate, of course.

Albany was met with a vision. A young man tormented, twisted, deformed. Snakes, blood. Pain… so much pain.

“Don’t go there, Jonas. Just trust me.” she said, almost in a whisper.

“What’s the big deal? It’s just a shack. I scored pretty well on my O.W.L.’s in Defense Against the Dark Arts. I got an O, for Christ’s sake, Albany. I think I can handle a little creepy shack filled with funky monsters.” Albany knew she couldn’t dissuade him, so she dropped the subject altogether. She told him that she was getting tired and wanted to return to the castle. He did mention that there was much more to Hogsmeade that she wasn't seeing, though she suggested that they go another time soon. He agreed to that, at least.

He led Albany back to the dungeons, and stood facing her right in front of the entrance to the Slytherin common room.

“Well,” he began. “I’ve enjoyed spending time with you.”

“I’ve enjoyed spending time with you too. Thank you for everything. I’ve never… no one has ever taken me places like that, or shown me things, or…”

Before she could finish her sentence, Jonas reached towards her and drew her in for a kiss. At first, it was soft and tender. He gently nipped at her lower lip, and she, having been giving snogging advice from Andrea (who had a beau in America attending Ilvermorny with whom she had gained quite a bit of experience), took his upper lip with her teeth and gently tugged down. She opened her mouth just slightly, panting in the heat of the moment, and she felt his tongue slip into her mouth. This was a strange sensation, indeed. His mouth tasted like sugar from the Honeyduke sweets and… well… what she expected a teenage boy's mouth to taste like. Not particularly nice. However, she wanted to prove her affection, to show her thanks for all he had done for her. She felt like she owed him something.

He had wrapped his hand around her waist with one hand and cupped her head with the other. Their kiss became more aggressive. The two completely forgot about the fact that they were standing in the middle of a corridor right in front of a common room. Although it was growing late and no one was around, such an act was daring.

Suddenly, Jonas was jerked backwards by a firm hand and slapped hard on the back of his head. His face was absolutely startled, sincerely gobsmacked, and he swung around to see Professor Snape standing behind him like a looming shadow bound to bring a rain of hell down upon him.

“Mister Cunningway, as a prefect for your house I would expect you to know better than to behave so crudely right in front of a common room… Which. Is. Not. Yours.”

“I will be informing your head of house about your behaviour. I am sure this would warrant some… issues… with your current position as prefect. Am. I. Understood?” His eyes were filled with rage. He didn’t even glance at Albany, as she began inching back towards the common room ever so slowly.

“30 points from Gryffindor. 10 from Slytherin.” he said, snapping his head over to Albany as she attempted to retreat back to the safety of her house's common room. She looked over at Jonas, whose fists were clenched, his eyes a bit bloodshot, glaring at Severus with a look of utter fury.

“Oh, so you think you have a right to favor your own house, _Snape_? We were both involved in this _act_ , why is Gryffindor being treated differently? You’re being prejudiced! You should know better, being a Professor here!” Jonas protested, losing his temper altogether. Albany agreed with him. This was unfair, and Professor Snape was being highly unreasonable. What else was new?

“Don’t play stupid, Mister Cunningway. I saw you initiate the _act_ in question. Don't think you have authority here simply because you're a prefect and an insufferable teacher's pet. Now you both will return to your respective dorms. Another 10 points from Gryffindor for your crude language towards a professor. Now. Get.” 

Albany was confused. How long had he been watching the two of them, and why did it take so long for him to come over and reprimand the two of them? Admittedly, it sent shudders down her spine. Jonas sighed, gave Albany a tender look, and hurried out of the dungeons back to the Gryffindor common room. Albany briefly made eye contact with Severus, his face unreadable, before returning to the Slytherin common room.

_Not another James._

She went to her dorm room and immediately changed into her pajamas, heaving her bag of expensive sweets on top of her bed, opening it up, and chomping on a few of them, trying not to think of the sheer humiliation she had just experienced at the hands of her very complicated teacher. That man was such an enigma. Soon, she went to finish some of her required reading before settling under the covers and going to sleep. Fae was nowhere to be found, as usual. She was the kind of person to stay up very late, up to tomfoolery around the castle or irritating the hell out of Madam Pince in the library.

She decided to forgive Fae. Forgiveness was... a good thing.

 

***

 

"Here, son. I thought to get you something." Tobias said, tossing a few boxes of cigarettes Severus's way. "Now, say thank you."

"Thank you, sir." he muttered.

Tobias scoffed, and returned to his Muggle newspaper. It had been a six months since Eileen's passing, and Severus was going to be attending his sixth year of Hogwarts. Christmas was a strange time, a rather unenjoyable one at that, especially spending it at home. It was the first time he was home after his mother died, and the house had grown surprisingly quiet. Perhaps the old man had lost all the fight in him. Of course, he hadn't gotten in trouble with the Muggle authorities. He had disposed of the body in the local bog, commanding his son to help him lift his mother's corpse from the trunk of their battered car.

He wanted to return home for a few reasons. Primarily, he knew he could direct the authorities to his mother's corpse. He could have chosen to stay in the Slytherin dorm, staying safe and avoiding his father's wrath. He wanted revenge, however. He could take over the residence on Spinner's End if his plan were to prove fruitful.

He wondered what Lily was doing this Christmas. Likely having a good time, as always. He remembered how, when he was a young child, they would invite him to join their family for a modest Christmas dinner; it was all they could afford, after all. They weren't much better off than the Snape family. They even bought him an overcoat one year, adorned with numerous buttons. He had been ecstatic. He never had new clothes, after all, most of his clothes were hand-me-downs from his own mother. He never heard the end of the ridicule during his childhood from Petunia and other local children, and it was even worse at Hogwarts on their days off, when they were expected to wear casual clothing. The Marauders found his attire absolutely hilarious. He had an old black coat from his father which he would often wear, hiding the women's blouses and stained button-up shirts. He hadn't really bothered to find any spells to clean up his clothing. He considered it a waste of time; why bother to fix something so broken?

The school year before his mother died, he had done a terrible, unforgivable thing. He had called Lily a  _mudblood_ , in front of everyone. She never forgave him. He would wait outside of the Gryffindor Common Room, absolutely desperate, begging her forgiveness. She would simply ignore him and walk by, leaving him standing there, defeated. It was even more humiliating given that the Marauders had him practically at their disposal. He was a perfect target, standing right outside of their common room like that.

They had taken him completely off guard. He was intently reading one of the books he stole from the Restricted Section. He panicked, remembering the slug incident from a few weeks prior, and before he knew it, he was disarmed and hanging from the large oak tree by the lake. They had stripped off his trousers as he hung there upside down from the tree. 

“LEAVE HIM ALONE!” Lily had shouted.

“Ah, Evans, don't make me hex you,” said James.

“Take the curse off him, then!”

James turned to Snape and muttered the counter-curse.

“There you go,” he said… “You're lucky Evans was here,  _Snivellus_  -"

“I don't need help from filthy little  _Mudbloods_  like her!” There were those cruel words. He felt sick to his stomach. He was completely and utterly humiliated.

Severus gulped, staring blindly forward, reminding himself that he was sitting in Spinner's End with his bastard of a father. He got up to leave, to find his father's grip firm on his wrist.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" Tobias Snape growled.

"Out."

"Where would you even go? I know your little girlfriend doesn't like you anymore. Why would she in the first place? You're not much of a pretty boy, are you?" Tobias said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a lighter for his gift of cigarettes. "Here, you look stressed. Get it out of your system. You're welcome."

"Thank you, sir." Severus said through gritted teeth, taking the lighter and heading out of the house. 

He walked down to the polluted bog where his mother's body lay. It had likely decomposed by now and was sitting at the bottom of the bog. He tried not to let his colorful and detailed memory get to him. He put a cigarette between his lips and lit in, staring blindly forward yet again, trying to ignore the smell of the cigarette and the stink of Cokeworth. No wonder people at school told him he smelled bad. 

He had another cigarette, and another, and another, and another. The pack was empty. It was getting dark out. He needed to find a telephone. He wasn't particularly close with any of his neighbors, knowing that they disliked him and thought his family to be nothing more than scum. The only telephone he knew was the one belonging to the Evans' family. Well, it was worth a shot.

He headed out towards their house, and took several deep breaths before knocking on the door. Lily's mother answered, looking slightly suspicious and rather reserved.  _She told everyone about what you did, Sev._

"Hello... Severus. How can I help you?"

"I need to use your telephone. It's an emergency." he uttered, suddenly finding himself too nervous to look into Lily's mother's eyes.

"Lily! It's your friend, Severus. He needs to use the telephone." Lily's mother called over her shoulder. Severus began to panic.

"No... No... it's fine, I can just run in and..."

Lily appeared at the door, scowling at him with her piercing green eyes. "What do you want?"

"I need to use your telephone." he said, averting his eyes, looking down at their 'welcome' mat. It felt like this damn mat was mocking him!

"Fine." Lily muttered before gesturing Severus to come in. She lead him towards the living room towards their rotary phone. 

"I know you're using this as an excuse to see me, and let me tell you, it's not a good one. Not even that clever."

"No, I really need to use it."

"For what?"

"I... I can't tell you, Lily." he said, taking a deep breath. They were silent for a few minutes.

"I'll give you privacy, then." she muttered, heading out of the room.

Severus rang the police, told them all the information they would need, described how he had been used by his father as an accessory, and to come to Spinner's End as soon as possible and take away his bastard of a father for good. When he hung up the telephone, he felt a wave of relief wash over him. He stood there, his arms shaking.

"Are you finished?" It was Lily, leaning against the doorframe leading into the sparse living room.

"Yes. Thanks." he said, looking again into her eyes, finding himself entranced by them.

"You can leave now." she said, going back upstairs to her room.

He sighed, taking out the next pack of cigarettes, leaving without saying goodbye, hoping to return to the lush spot from their childhood to smoke yet another fucking pack of cigarettes. He was just like his father.

 

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally have so much fun writing these. I mean... I am staying up until 3 AM... but I'm on the east coast while on west coast time so I have an excuse haha. Oh boy, oh boy.
> 
> Offensive slurs are difficult to hear, to talk about, and to write about. I mean, there's all this dialogue about Mark Twain novels and their use of slurs. It's a difficult topic to breach.
> 
> Poor Severus... he has been through so much... he needs a goddamn hug. A lot of people have a tendency to dislike him, which is certainly valid, though I just can't bring myself to. Ugly, abused, misunderstood, and 'dying' all in the name of some cause he could have easily chosen not to be a part of. He could have sat back and let things go as they were. Plus, he is a character led by love. Love is a truly powerful thing.
> 
> "Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave. It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame. Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot sweep it away. If one were to give all the wealth of one’s house for love, it would be utterly scorned." (Song of Solomon 8:6)
> 
> I have more of an intellectual interest in the Bible rather than a practical one. I do wear a cross everyday, along with a spinning Sufi pendant and a Jewish star. I'm an odd bird.
> 
> Again, here are some music that I think goes along with the vibe of this chapter:
> 
> 1\. Young Lust (Pink Floyd): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wGmIL2gtieU
> 
> 2\. Seventeen (Marina and the Diamonds): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-gcs_wyw5s0
> 
> 3\. Friend (Lover) (Evenings): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hSokVMgFSB8
> 
> 4\. Blank Generation (Richard Hell & The Voidoids): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TDT19fU3a9I
> 
> 5\. Your Best American Girl (Mitski): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u_hDHm9MD0I
> 
> SPOTIFY PLAYLIST: https://open.spotify.com/user/mooniemoe/playlist/1BftWaSHedV8PHnvuicKXB?si=LKrxiuVEQ165ytubpi2V2w


	7. Remove. Your. Scarf.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albany loses something society values very much, she is humiliated in class, and gets a cruel nickname. Not too fun of a chapter for poor Albany. Do things get better for her? Eh.
> 
> *Here's the first major smut part, though not with Severus (that comes later, when she is 18 and has more legal rights and autonomy and can drink in Britain, etc, but things feel premature since she's still in her fifth year and obviously no one is going to act on anything because she does have two more years to survive). 
> 
> This first sexual encounter is just with her 'boyfriend' of sorts.
> 
> Additionally, we get to hear about Severus's first sexual encounter, and it is not good. This part is a bit graphic and a bit violent. Consent is not entirely given, so I want to give a trigger warning to y'all! It's a twisted story, indeed. Severus and others really had to go through some shit to appease Voldemort...
> 
> *Use of offensive language against sexually active people. You know what I'm talking about. Again, not my personal beliefs, just ways that characters express their own sentiments.

 

***

 

The beginning of her fifth year had been… eventful, to say the least. They had a new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor: Patricia Rakepick. The woman had been sauntering around campus dealing with those damned Cursed Vaults with that little gaggle of popular curse breakers all of the previous year. Albany and her friends maintained as much distance as possible, much more interested in trying to survive Hogwarts rather than be killed before graduation.

Severus was a furious mess, what, with the school employing this impossibly sketchy woman to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts and not him? Dumbledore was openly mocking him at this point.

Fae had wanted to room with her again, for reasons Albany couldn't initially determine, though she took Fae up on that offer. However, she only later realized that Fae had no one else to room with. Merula was with Ismelda again, and most of the other Slytherin girls had very tight-knit cliques. Fae was, just like Albany, a bit of an outcast.

Mpho had his first kiss over the summer and wouldn't stop talking about it. Andrea had already started pressuring her American boyfriend to propose and had started writing a memoir. Belle had gone to Diagon Alley numerous times over the summer and bought a hoard of charmed makeup products and promised to share them with everyone.

Albany would come to lose something society deemed valuable, that young girls deemed precious, either ashamed of it or prone to relish in it. Such as it was.

Jonas and Albany were officially a couple, and were the talk of Hogwarts, whether it be negative or not. Hell, it was a fun distraction from the drone about cursed ice and spiders in the Forbidden Forest.

Albany wasn't quite sure what to do in a relationship, and simply let Jonas take the lead. One day in early October, he told her that he wanted to try something knew. Naïve as she was, she completely agreed to whatever he had in mind. She just wanted to make him happy.

Jonas had led her down one of the darker corridors of Hogwarts, defined by its semi-permanent abundance of cobwebs and outdated paraphernalia detailing Quidditch games from twenty or more years past. Roughly taking her hands, he backed her into a wall, next to a sleeping portrait of an old man with a rather garish mustache, wearing a slightly cracked monocle.

He then proceeded to kiss her boldly, practically pushing open her mouth and shoving his tongue into hers. She found that she instinctively withdrew her tongue to the back of her palate, but he was rather insistent and instead took to biting her lips rather hard, nearly drawing blood. This was only her second kiss in all her life.

He ran his hands up and down her body, proceeding to reach under her sweater, and then her blouse. Her body felt warm against his cold hands, and she realized that she did indeed enjoy this. She could feel a pounding in her lower abdomen, similar to the sensation she felt when she would tentatively touch herself in her bedroom in the attic after her mother had gone to sleep.

Slowly but surely, he reached his hands up her skirt and began to brusquely stroke her clit. He could see her gulp, and he moved away from her, seemingly admiring his work. He then grabbed one of her hands and put it against the bulge in her pants. She could feel the outline of his cock and found it surprisingly rubbery and rather strange. All these new things were happening so very quickly, and it was all quite overwhelming.

“Move it around, feel it out.” he whispered in her ear, biting on her earlobe surprisingly tenderly before latching his mouth of her neck, sucking and biting aggressively, most certainly adding another hickey to her new collection.

She was in far too much shock to resist. His tongue circling around her neck rapidly, she began to nervously feel around his cock, not entirely sure how to proceed with this.

He then took her around the waist and said, “Let’s find the nearest bathroom.” For some reason utterly foreign to her, she nodded and the two hurried off to the boy’s bathroom that was closest to the abandoned corridor.

Only one person was in a stall, calmly taking a shite. Wonderful.

Albany felt embarrassed that she and Jonas would be interrupting him, but before she could protest, Jonas shoved her into one of the stalls, pinning her against the side wall, running his hands up her shirt again until he touched her bra, kneading her still-developing breasts in his hands. She couldn’t help but moan at this, hardly expecting such a physiological reaction from herself. She heard the boy in the stall shift his weight slightly. She found herself turning red, but returned to the task at hand.

Before she knew it, he removed her shoes and then the black tights which were part of her uniform. She decided that she would go through this, she would push through her discomfort, because this was the end all of women of the day. She believed in her resolute mind that she would have to endure the discomfort and inevitable pain so that she could live up to this standard of womanhood that she had constructed for herself, yet hardly understood.

He stripped away her day of the week panties (it said Thursday despite it being Friday) and began stroking her pussy, dipping a few fingers at a time until three had entered. She gasped, surprised by the pain, yet he continued to stick them in deeper and deeper and he kissed her again, their tongues rolling together, sticky with saliva, he intently exploring her palate with his rough tongue.

Soon, she found herself straddling him against the side of the stall with her legs wrapped around his waist, gasping in surprise as he continued to finger her with even more voracity. She could see him fumbling through his pockets before pulling out a rather unusual Muggle device to have at a wizarding school. It was a bright green condom. _Why green?_

“Aren’t there spells we could use? Why do you have a condom?”

“Well, you forget that my father is a Muggle. He thought that his eldest son should be prepared for such an inevitable event. He practically filled my trunk to the brim with these. Finally I’m getting the chance to use them.” Albany found herself trying not to roll her eyes.

“Well… whatever works.”

They heard the toilet flush and the eager steps of a boy heading out of the bathroom.

The two realized he didn’t wash his hands, and shuddered simultaneously.

Her mind distracted, pensively wondering about the health hazard that this anonymous boy was, he had penetrated her suddenly. She was still a bit dry, and bit her lip to fight through the pain. He held her against the stall and pound into her again, again, and again before their was the eager shuffling of rather stunted steps and a knock at the stall door. The dirty boy was a snitch, and not the lucrative golden ball sort.

“Whoever this is, this is highly inappropriate on school grounds!” It was Flitwick.

Jonas pulled out, awkwardly coming at this moment after pulling out of her. He quickly yanked off the condom and flushed it in the toilet, hurriedly zipping up his fly.

“What do you mean, Professor? I’m simply… using the facilities.”

“I can see two feet under there. I know what you’re up to. Is someone… barefoot?”

“My friend is changing in here with me. He’s trying out for the Quidditch team quite soon, and I wanted to get him pumped up! This is a big moment for him. We’re quite excited for him. We’re very close, awfully close. I needed to give him a private little pep talk, something just between us. If you don’t mind, professor, he needs to get dressed.” What a weird fucking cover story.

“You were… conversing while using the facilities? Together? Mister Arthson reported to me that he heard _suggestive_ noises…”

“Professor, I must say, it is highly inappropriate for a professor like yourself to be making such lewd comments.” With this, Flitwick let out a little huff and began to hobble out of the bathroom.

“Don’t make me regret letting you off, Mister Cunningway. And may I inquire which friend this is?” Albany gulped.

“George Bumble, Sir.” He had thought of the first third-year Gryffindor that came to mind.

No other words were said. Flitwick left the office, leaving the snitch in the restroom for a moment before he too decided to hurry out. Thankfully, Flitwick didn’t think to ask ‘George Bumble’ to speak.

Albany slowly gathered up her stuff before running out of the restroom, not bothering to put her tights or her shoes back on, Jonas following close behind her.

“Albany! Wait! Wait!” he ran after her.

She turned around abruptly, her hair flying wildly around her face.

“I need to be alone, Jonas. Leave me be, alright? Just go.” She ran off, her gorgeous hair, her prized possession, trailing behind her like the robes of a ghost.

As soon as she could, she bursted through the Slytherin common room and ran into the lavatory. Immediately, she was greeted by her neck, which was decimated with love bites. She blushed, feeling a bit of shame, and ran to her room, hands covering her neck as discreetly as possible. She threw on one of her Slytherin scarves before putting her tights and shoes back on and heading down to the common room, collecting her parchment and quills, examining her unfinished Charms essay.

She could feel tears welling up in her eyes, and one fell on her parchment, ruining the ink. She would have to start the page from scratch. Things were far too awkward with Flitwick, despite him being oblivious, to have to explain anything to him.

 

*******

 

Potions class. She was quite nervous, walking in with this massive scarf around her neck. She knew people were talking amongst themselves, pointing out her rather garish and mildly disheveled appearance to one another. She avoided eye contact with anyone and took her seat in the back of the classroom, quickly taking out her potions materials, gently placing her cauldron on her workspace so as to not make a sound and draw any attention to herself.

“Today we will be learning how to brew a Strengthening Solution. Does anyone, anyone at all, have any prior knowledge of such a solution, or will I have to explain it slowly and meticulously, as though I were speaking to a group of baboons?”

Snape was in a rather foul mood today, his brows heavier than usual, his signature leer rather defined, his dark eyes digging holes into the flesh of the students.

One shy Ravenclaw raised her hand. “I know there’s salamander blood in it. My father, he works with magical creatures, and he often uses the solution to make some feisty creatures more manageable and he has me go out and hunt for salamanders with my little brother who’s really good at…”

“That will be enough from you, Miss Davis. I do not need nor care much for a backstory on your benign little life. Does anyone else have any previous knowledge of this potion? No? What about Miss Newson? Surely she has some knowledge of the potion. Although her personal background may have limited her scope of knowledge, aside from the fact that she is older than all her peers… What say you, Miss Newson? Care to offer up some wisdom?” His sarcastic drawl was both intriguing and highly terrifying.

Albany gulped. “I don’t know, sir.”

He began to approach her, his billowing robes all the more terrifying than she had expected. She had hoped that their budding relationship would have made her potions lectures a bit more bearable. She looked down at her workspace, hoping that he wouldn’t try to make a show of her discomfort. She soon saw his large, calloused hands resting on her desk. The Ravenclaw boy sitting next to her scooted away from her. She didn’t blame him for wanting no part in this.

“Would you take off that scarf, Miss Newson? I imagine it will get in the way of brewing our Strengthening Solution, do you think?” She looked up, and his eyes were penetrating her in a way that she had never before experienced. She found herself at a loss of words.

“Although I do appreciate the _house spirit_ , Miss Newson, I must ask you again to remove. Your. Scarf. Now.”

“I can’t.” she said at a whisper.

“What was that? You cannot? Why, I am sure the class is most curious as to what you are hiding from them. Perhaps you’re just… _chilly_. Remove. Your. Scarf.” There was a malicious grin forming on his cold face. She wasn’t sure he knew exactly what was under there, supposedly being virginal and all. At least, that was the assumption made by nearly all of the students.

Slowly and with shaking hands, she removed the scarf and set it on her lap. She could feel her eyes welling with tears. She remained still, looking down at the scarf with increasing blurry vision. The classroom burst into laughter, and Snape immediately backed away from her desk, returning to the front of the class.

“30 points from Slytherin, unfortunately, as it is my house. I am very disappointed in your poor conduct and even poorer presentation skills, Miss Newson. I will expect an explanation after class.” The entire class was bursting at the seams with giggles, a few people tossing crumpled up pieces of parchment her way. “You have lost so many points from Slytherin, Miss Newson. Possibly the most of any student in any house in this entire school. Given your character, it is not surprising.” More laughter.

When she finally got the courage to look up, she could see Severus glaring at her with something in his eyes that was rather inexplicable. There seemed to be a mild flickering flame residing behind his near-black eyes, and Albany quickly looked back down at her lap. The rest of the class she grew redder and redder with shame.

The class went by in a blur, Albany hardly paying attention, letting her partner take the reins with brewing the solution. By the end of class, the solution was decent enough so that Severus allowed her partner to be dismissed. She knew that they would exchange some rather tense words, and remained in her seat, her back slumped and her eyes brimming with tears.

“Would you come to my office please, Miss Newson?” He said, his voice over-articulating and drawing out every last syllable.

She got up, quickly gathered her books, parchment, quills, textbook, and potions equipment, before following Severus into his office. It was dimly lit, adorned with jars upon jars of pickled animal parts, herbs, and other unidentifiable liquids neatly arranged on the shelves surrounding the desk. On this day, the desk was incredibly crowded with stacks among stacks of papers, broken quills, and spilled ink. He must have been particularly busy and stressed. This did not justify his cruelty towards her, however. She looked into Snape’s eyes. There was a raging flame beneath them.

“Who. Did. That.” he said, his voice almost in a whisper. She didn’t reply. “WHO?!” She jumped back, completely alarmed by his sudden outburst.

“It was… Jonas Cunningway.” She said reluctantly, looking down at the cold grey stone floor of the dungeons.

“Ah, the infamous Mister Cunningway again. I see. I find it very interesting that you’d go after such a _perky_ Gryffindor, our presumed house rival. Interesting, indeed.” he paused for effect. “I will take 50 points from Gryffindor, and give you both two weeks of detention. Tonight from 7 to 9. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Professor.” she turned to go, before he stopped with with a rather irritated “Ahem?”.

“You are forgetting your materials, Miss Newson.”

She scurried back and grabbed up her books, dropping a few of them and bending over. Snape couldn’t help but look at the way her back arched and the tiniest bit of collarbone showed through her shirt. She hadn’t buttoned up all the way, and her tie was rather loose on her neck, likely to accommodate the bulk of her scarf from earlier.

Snape had been in awe of her for most of the year, always disappointed with the fact that she would insist on sitting in the back everyday. He even found himself jealous of that Ravenclaw boy he saw her working with everyday. He would look into her mind and find her constantly daydreaming in his class. He knew how little she wanted to be there, and how often she would be thinking of Muggle literature. He saw a legilimens in her, but made sure to keep his mind even more closed off than it was in the presence of Lord Voldemort. If she were to discover his innermost thoughts regarding her, his shameful thoughts, he wouldn’t know what to do.

A spark of light flashed before his eyes, and he thought of the day she had taken his arm to apparate into Diagon Alley that first time he met her. Her grasp was light, yet firm, her thin pale fingers nimble, rubbing just so slightly over the thick, black fabric of his robe. He thought of how Jonas must have tasted her neck, how he had sucked her pale, fragile flesh in his mouth, softly biting, drawing his tongue across her clavicle. He wondered if she had enjoyed it.

He wondered where this would have taken place. Was it in the Forbidden Forest? He had always imagined himself and Lily heading there, though obviously that was bound to never occur. He could swear that Lily and James went out there to snog, however, or maybe something more happened. He gulped, trying not to think so deeply about this. It was far too disturbing for him to cope with. Thinking of this made his blood boil with jealousy, and he tried hard to not think of Albany, the indifferent and mediocre potions student with a strange spark in her that he found absolutely alluring.

Before he knew it, she had run out the class, and he heard the deafening thud of the Potions classroom door slamming behind her. He sighed, and began to shuffle papers and arrange ingredients in preparation for the next class of moronic first years.

 

***

 

"Go on, Severus. You are a most faithful servant. You deserve to relish in the carnal joys. Narcissa, would you assist Severus in his task?" Voldemort hissed in Severus's direction.

He was growing more and more nervous, more and more uncomfortable, given that the Dark Lord was insistent upon him losing his virginity to a pure-blood. Narcissa was also uncomfortable as well, as she had been recently married to Lucius and he seemed absolutely fine with another man sleeping with his wife. She felt like a commodity, like a toy that could be distributed at will. Severus was an old friend of Lucius, and Lucius, being the suave womanizer that he was, wanted to make sure that his friend, his little sidekick, could have this experience. He certainly would not have initiated anything with any woman, having been so hung up over that " _mudblood_ girl from school", as they called it. He had recently heard the news that she was expecting her first child, and it made him feel... nothing. James had left his mark on her, what was there to be done? Oh, but he still loved her... he had to pretend he didn't around his fellow companions. They could never know.

They were in the Riddle House, in Voldemort's private chambers, having congregated for a meeting which would prove to be rather celebratory. During their most recent meeting, Voldemort insisted that Severus teach the Death Eaters his own original spell, _sectumsempra_ , and oh, did it prove to be most fruitful. Severus was, of course, the practice dummy. He dealt with the wounds like a true man, like a true wizard, and Voldemort was admittedly proud of him, though he was rather conservative in his praise, of course. He wouldn't want to favor anyone of his minions over another, would he?

"Narcissa, strip, and lay down on the bed, please." Lucius instructed, smiling nervously at Voldemort, seeking his approval. Voldemort squinted his eyes and turned in Narcissa, slowly licking his lips in a disturbingly serpentine manor.

Narcissa did as she was asked, shaking nervously, her eyes welling with tears. She wiped them away quickly and proceeded to remove her clothing. Severus had never seen a naked woman in the flesh before (he had wanked off to moving pornographic images, usually supplied by Lucius, of course). He was admittedly aroused upon looking at Narcissa's bare flesh, though this made him even more uncomfortable, given that she was clearly humiliated by this whole ordeal and did not truly wish to partake in the act. The other Death Eaters watched on, fascinated by the idea of Severus being converted, truly converted, to blood purity through a carnal experience of the flesh. The Death Eaters loved to share partners, brutally raping and slaughtering Muggles who were under the control of the Imperius Curse. Their orgies were savage and ritualistic, staining the wooden floors of the Riddle house with blood, shit, piss, and semen. Severus hadn't wanted to participate. Voldemort interrogated him as to why, and he disclosed that he had never been intimate with anyone before. Voldemort said he would prove his worth through the torture of a Muggle whore, and when he fulfilled the task, he was scheduled to be 'rewarded' for his loyalty.

Severus was nervous about the logistics of this, though he knew it was likely that Lucius would be his verbal guide. He had just turned 19 and the woman that lay before him was 23, and certainly more experienced. She had been given to other Death Eaters before, willingly by her husband, even to the Dark Lord himself. Severus couldn't watch when the latter took place. Voldemort had even come to call her his "little Mary Magdalene", which sent shudders down Severus's spine whenever this little nickname was uttered. Bellatrix was, admittedly, very jealous, though she knew that she was reserved for Tom and Tom alone.

Severus was glad that he was not expected to remove his clothing. That would be far too terrifying for him. He absolutely hated his body, hated the sight of it, the idea of it, the sheer existence of it. He tentatively approached the bed and crawled onto it, staring into Narcissa's nervous doe-like eyes which were welling with... was it panic?

"You may proceed, Severus." Voldemort said with fire in his eyes, licking his lips in a manner akin to a serpent. 

Severus sat above Narcissa, and she spread her legs for him. He unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his cock. She helped line him up, and before he could entirely process what was happening, he was inside her. Slowly, very nervously, he began thrusting. She was very dry, and whimpered at the pain, which certainly brought Voldemort immense pleasure. He was instructed to go faster, and he did so, averting his gaze so as to not look into Narcissa's fearful eyes. He was indeed aroused, which brought him great shame, and he came, immediately thinking to himself that he was just like his bastard of a father. 

_Was this how I was conceived? Was it this cruel? I... what would she say to me? Mum..._

Severus felt sick, repulsed by himself.

"You did well, Severus. You will have more practice soon, I'm sure. We will be gathering muggle whores for our disposal in our next meeting to celebrate our hard work. Now, who's next?"

 

***

 

“Haven’t you heard? She’s an absolutely filthy whore. It doesn’t surprise me. You know those incestuous Slytherins. Maybe one of them got wise and decided to diversify their genetic palate. Maybe wanted to work on purifying her blood. Maybe they’re a sadistic son of a bitch and want to shag a Muggle-Born into oblivion. I kind of feel sorry for her. She dared to show up to Snape’s class covered in hickies! What a teasing whore! That does take bravery, though, I must say.” A sixth-year was getting smart, and he was soon blasted with wordless spell which nearly flung him into the Gryffindor common room fireplace. He stared at his prefect, Jonas Cunningway, in absolute shock.

“What the hell, Jonas?” was all he could utter. "I'm going to tell Bill!"

“You take your foul language, and go straight to McGonagall. No protests, no nothing. Get your filthy mug out of my sight before I beat the absolute shite out of you. Go!” Jonas was absolutely overwhelmed with rage, his Gryffindor courage getting the absolute best of him, taking over his entire body and heart. Such were Gryffindors.

He noticed a bunch of younger students staring at him with a look of fear in her eyes. Fine, he thought. Let them be afraid. He could get away with breaking a common room rule about casting spells.

“You know, someone did catch you two snogging. Are you guys a thing? It sounds like a true Romeo and _Juliet_ story to me. A loaded Gryffindor and a Muggle-Born Slytherin… I personally find it to be really adorable.” A girl named Juliet in Albany’s year said to him.

“I suppose so. I can’t let anyone talk badly about her. She means the world to me. And, I’ll have you know, she isn’t a whore. That’s just plain evil to say. She’s a lovely girl with wit and charm and passion.”

“She definitely stands out amongst the snakes. It’ll be hard to let her go after you graduate, huh?”

“Well… It might be inevitable. I’ve always wanted to be an auror, you see. Or just work for the Ministry. I have ambition. I care for her, but I wouldn’t want her to hold me back, to bind me to this place. I’m ready to leave.” Jonas was amazed by the honestly that left his lips.

“Quite the statement for a prefect. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you confessed your true feelings to me.” Juliet said with a coyish smile.

Jonas smiled. Perhaps he would try to snog her later. It’s not as though Albany would ever find out. He could just obliviate her, no problem. He was sure she hadn’t even been exposed to that spell yet. She wouldn’t know what was coming. It would all be for the best, he reassured himself. All for the best. He was not aware of her talents in legilimency, however, and her inevitable discovery of his true intentions. She would stay with him nonetheless, firmly believing that no one else would show her such attention otherwise.

He decided to just ask Juliet upfront if she was interested in him. He was very good at propositioning girls, he found.

“Juliet,” he said, stopping her in her tracks as she was heading towards the girl’s dormitory. “Would you want to go to Hogsmeade sometime? Maybe this weekend, perhaps?”

She smiled. “I would love to, Jonas. Thank you for inviting me. I’ll wear one of my nice dresses. Before it gets too cold out.” she winked at him, and walked up the stairs back to her dorm. _Here’s another sweet little tease._

Jonas chuckled to himself before plopping down on a couch near the fireplace, studying rigorously for his N.E.W.T. exams. If he was going to become an auror, he had to be the best of the best. Nothing would stand in his way. Girls were just a pass time. A fun pass time, however. Most fun, indeed. Entertaining, at the very least. A good shag was always fun. Had he come too quickly with Albany? Was she disappointed? He would have to try again. Maybe without a condom. _I bet she’d like that_ , he thought. _There are abortion spells, anyways._

  
***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've uploaded like three chapters super compulsively and very quickly, which is cool because I'm getting a lot of shit done. Being a teenager is crazy difficult! It's so emotionally demanding. 
> 
> I think Severus is bullying Albany so much because she genuinely makes him uncomfortable on so many levels. She's sort of an enigma to him. One minute she's terrified of him, and the next she engages with him in a way that no student has ever before. She can be extremely direct and courageous, even a bit arrogant (that is a Slytherin stereotype, after all). Her confidence fluctuates like crazy, as mine did and still does... In a way, he feels like she is torturing him, and he doesn't quite know what to do with/about her.
> 
> He is a bully. He is a flightless bird. He is sporadic. I feel like I could have easily become him, were circumstances different. Possibly Maybe. I love Björk. I hope you get that reference, though unfortunately it is not a featured song for this chapter.
> 
> I had a weird experience losing my virginity. Nothing special, really. I've never had a proper boyfriend, and I honestly don't really care for one. There are very few men who I'm romantically attracted to. Anyways, so I went to this university traditional moonlit party, and felt desperate. So, I went with his long haired California dude into his car, and did the deed to Gregorian chants. It was really weird. 4/10.
> 
> I hope you all have a lovely day!
> 
> ~~~
> 
> Here's some atmospheric music, enjoy:
> 
> 1\. Bizarre Love Triangle (New Order): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7uEBuqkkQRk
> 
> 2\. Bobby Brown Goes Down (Frank Zappa): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iW4Bm7q_zOc
> 
> 3\. Silent Shout (The Knife): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9GJdb7BiugQ
> 
> 4\. My Love Is A Monster (Compulsive Gamblers): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3DYU3b22xpc
> 
> 5\. One Eyed Girl (Hands Off Gretel): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tIJb64JI4BQ
> 
> SPOTIFY PLAYLIST: https://open.spotify.com/user/mooniemoe/playlist/1BftWaSHedV8PHnvuicKXB?si=LKrxiuVEQ165ytubpi2V2w


	8. Honesty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albany engages in rather unhealthy coping mechanisms to deal with bullying, Belle and Albany come to a realization, Severus remembers a day he'll never forget, and Albany and Severus learn more and more about each other with the help of Bob Dylan.
> 
> *depictions of violence, assault, murder, etc.
> 
> A lot of backstories are revealed here. Things get quite heavy. But what's new with this story, huh?

 

***

 

Albany was far too disturbed by her encounter with the boggart that past school year to even consider talking with Severus about the experience, despite his previous offer to discuss the events of that day. She had been far too nervous to even look him in the eye during class, or during house meetings. It was all made worse due to how many compromising situations she had been caught in by the damn man. He had seen her as weak and vulnerable as anyone close to her had ever seen her, and it was unnerving. It was made all the more odd by her strange attraction to the man. She had a sort of morbid crush on the loathsome goth ever since they met, but considered it to be nothing more than a little teenaged passion getting in the way of her thinking.

Albany didn't bother to do anything for Halloween that year, ignoring the Hogwarts festivities entirely and spending the evening tucked away into her room, doing her assignments and reading, making sure to keep her grades up so as to ensure her continued scholarship. Jonas had invited her to celebrate with him, but she politely turned down the offer, claiming that she was 'sick'. 

What was the use of making even more of a spectacle of herself?

Christmas came, her 18th birthday passed, Jonas had sent her a lovely gift for both events, treating them as separate ones rather than combining them, as her parents had often done. She reminded herself to try to scrape together enough money to get him something for his 18th, which was that February, on Valentine's Day, as a matter of fact.

Her home life was growing all the more uncomfortable. What else was new? She found herself bored, anticipating her return to Hogwarts. She was an adult now… she was… a woman? Could she even call herself that?

She had been utterly humiliated by her professor thanks to a bloody Slytherin scarf, a professor who she should have some favor with given the circumstances, a professor who had essentially slut shamed her in front of an entire classroom. She couldn’t hear the end of the talk and gossip about her. Her friends encouraged her to ignore the comments, but it was still hard. People would call her ‘hog’, knowing that her first date with Jonas was at Hogsmeade. She was the ‘hog’ who was desperate for a ‘snake’. Very original jokes. So original. _Motherfuckers_.

To cope with this pain, she became highly sexual during her fifth year. Was this the best coping mechanism? Did it fuel the fire of her torment? No. Yes.

She would fuck Jonas pretty much every other day, usually in bathrooms or closets, sometimes in the Forbidden Forest. He insisted on doing it without condoms so as to increase the ‘sensation’, using contraceptive potions which he would steal from the hospital wing. It was perturbing to think that Severus was the one who brewed them in the first place. She was completely oversexed, coming back to her dorm from these rendezvous completely sore, covered in more bruises than she could count. Jonas was unrelenting and, admittedly, rather sloppy. She didn’t quite know how to, and didn’t want to risk brewing any dittany healing potion given her lack of talent at potions, nor did she feel like complaining to Jonah about his roughness. She didn’t want to offend him.

However, a part of her did feel satisfaction from his rough treatment. For some reason that she herself didn’t quite understand, she liked to be hit, choked, and bound whenever she and Jonah were fucking. Perhaps she had been influenced by one of Fae’s magazines.

Fae, on the other hand, was distinctly jealous of Albany, having been rejected by Arnold Slythorn right at the start of the year. She had been devastated, though she promptly hooked up with a rather repulsive blood purist, Jaxton Ajax Myerscough, a Slytherin sixth-year and Quidditch player.

Fae also managed to snog, strangely enough, while drunk with some of her Slytherin pals after going to a bar in Hogsmeade, a certain Charlie Weasley. Now that was a regrettable encounter if there ever was one. To mingle with the likes of the Weasley family… her parents would be ashamed of her, more like disown her outright.

Albany knew Jonas was cheating on her with Juliet, and with many, many other girls. She knew that he thought he was deserving of their attention, that he was such a stud. What an ego that boy had. She didn’t even care. All she wanted was that relief, that relief that someone could touch her, be physical with her.

She had only orgasmed once during her many encounters with Jonas. Even that was underwhelming, though Jonas was immensely proud of himself. It did frustrate him that she wouldn’t even bother to fake her orgasms, as many other girls did. She told him she considered that a waste of time, showing a lack of honesty like that. He shrugged and frowned, but commanded her to blow him if he found penetration boring, or disliked how little gratification she gave him through a sheer lack of orgasms. His constant demand for blowjobs between classes, after classes, before rounds, before curfew, inbetween meals... it was consuming her life, distracting her from her academics and sending her in an academic downspiral despite her need to do well, to appease Dumbledore and to keep her place at this prestigious school. What more, her jaw was getting fucking sore!

One February morning, Belle walked over to the Slytherin table, asking Albany discreetly if she would care to meet her in a quiet corridor. Albany nodded, immediately standing up and abandoning her breakfast, following Belle until they found a suitably quiet place to talk.

“Albany… I want to tell you this now. I want to be honest with you.” Belle began, desperation and tears swimming in her dark brown eyes.

“Of course. You can always be honest with me.” Albany replied.

“You shouldn’t be with Jonas.”

“I know, Belle. I know. I just… I need a release, and he offers that. That’s all.”

“People are saying all these awful things about you. You don’t deserve that.” Belle seemed genuinely concerned for Albany’s wellbeing, perhaps a bit more than anyone had ever before. She was a Hufflepuff, after all.

“I know. I don’t. There’s nothing I can do about what they say, can I? I have to accept it. I don’t have to be liked.” Albany replied.

“Oh, you’re such a Slytherin.” Belle said.

"So much so that I was sorted in there at the expense of my own ridicule. That's telling, isn't it?"

There was a period of silence, with heated looks exchanged between the two of them. For what felt like hours, their eyes simply could not break contact. Belle proceeded to do something which surprised Albany very much. She quickly kissed Albany on the lips before turning red and running away down the hall.

“Belle! Wait!” Albany cried, running after her, her lips still feeling a soft warmth from the kiss.

Belle whipped around, tears spilling down her smooth cheeks. 

“I always act like I’m so in tune with myself, always empathetic and kind… but I love you, Albany, and I always have! I think you’re smart and beautiful and blissfully sarcastic… you always put people in your place and you’re not afraid to be yourself…”

Albany leaned in and kissed Belle, softly and tenderly. After a few moments, they drew away, pupils blown, staring at each other.

“I’ve only kissed one other girl… you know Tonks? That fourth year?” Belle uttered in between sparse breaths.

“She’s fabulous. I like her. I’ve never talked to her, but I like her.” Albany replied.

“She’s one of those bi-curious types. That’s too much emotional maintenance for me.”

“I’ve never kissed a girl before.” Albany replied.

“Can we kiss again?” Belle said, hesitantly, looking into Albany’s eyes, nervously asking for consent, her voice barely at a whisper.

They leaned in towards each other and kissed, their tongues swirling reverently. They grasped each other’s waists and drew closer and closer. They began melting into each other, and Albany genuinely preferred this sensation to anything she had ever experienced with Jonas. She fell into the kiss, her abdomen growing warm and highly aroused by this all. Then there was the snickering and then there was the laughter. A group of third years spotted them, and were pointing and making a scene out of it.

“Fuck off!” Albany yelled, giving the little gremlins all the finger, taking Belle’s hand to lead her out to their little oak tree, perhaps to snog some more, or maybe just to talk.

They arrived at their little spot, with Albany assuming their typical position with her head on Belle’s lap. The day was still crisp. The Scottish weather remained unrelenting, even as spring would soon be on its way... eventually.

They would have sweet, sweet conversation underneath their little oak tree, their special spot.

“You know, if I could go anywhere in the world I would go to southern Spain.” Albany said.

“Why’d you think of this now?” Belle said with a laugh, running her hands through Albany’s wild head of curls.

“I always think of wild, random things. It’s cathartic. It keeps your mind off the mundane. It helps you survive.”

“I haven’t thought of it that way. Well, you know what I’m thinking about right now?”

“What’s that?”

“Aside from the fact that a pretty girl just snogged me shamelessly in front of people, my mind is obsessing over Olga Ladyzhenskaya.”

“Who the bloody hell is that? I’m impressed you so flawlessly pronounced that name.”

“Thank you. I’ve practiced.” Belle laughed, twisting curly strands of Albany’s reddish blonde hair around her fingers.

“So tell me about her.” Albany said, resting her hands on Belle’s thighs, kneading them lightly through her uniform tights, taking in deep breaths, in through her mouth and out through her nose. She felt blissfully at peace.

“She’s an amazing woman. Up there with Marie Curie. You know how much I love Muggle science? Anyways, Olga was this Russian mathematician. USSR times, you know? Dire, indeed. She was born in St. Petersburg. I’ve always wanted to go there. That history, the culture. I’ve been trying to teach myself Russian the past few years. It’s damn hard.”

“I’d imagine so.” Albany replied. “I’ve always wanted to learn as well. Maybe we should learn together?”

“I’d love that!” Belle said, smiling at Albany, who leaned down and kissed her again deeply.

“Anyways, so Olga worked on partial differential equations. Long story short, they are models generated by Muggle computers that can describe phenomenons of sound, heat, electrostatistics, even elasticity. That is amazing, isn’t it?”

“I still don’t understand how our worlds are connected.” Albany said, somewhat interrupting Belle’s train of thought. “One on hand, there are wizards who wish to completely dominate the non-magical world. But where do our objects come from? Where do our _materials_ come from? We can summon, transform… but wizards and witches certainly don’t _make_ said objects, said materials. Are the Muggles secretly all little masochistic unacknowledged factory workers who generate materials which can be magically yielded by the wizarding world? There was this French guy and his wife… the conservation of mass, it was called. You can’t just get rid of manner. It always _goes_ somewhere…”

“So you’re saying that blood purists are all secretly fools who, when they claim a desire to exterminate the Muggle race, are simply vouching for their own destruction and the destruction of the wizarding world itself without even entirely realizing it? That’s awfully clever.” Belle said.

“We can’t survive without Muggles. We can’t be wizards without there being Muggles, or else we have nothing to base ourselves on.”

Silence.

“That’s a very interesting concept. Olga would’ve been proud of you.” Belle said before leaning down and placing another deep, reverent kiss on Albany’s waiting mouth.

“How have you never been with anyone before, Belle? You’re one of the most gorgeous girls in school.” Albany said. Belle blushed.

“No one has ever… I think it’s because there’s a shame associated with it. Girls want to experiment. They don’t want…” She paused for a moment. “Are you just… experimenting?”

Albany thought for a moment. “This feels nice, Belle. It feels… good. Just good.”

They kissed again, lips falling into each other's on the crisp grass under the oak tree. After some time, they cast a tempus and realized they were late for class.

 

***

 

“Severus, you know you must complete this task to prove your loyalty. It is an act of _kindness_ on my part. You will simply be doing what you have always wanted. Your filthy Muggle father _deserves_ to suffer. Don’t you agree? Especially after what he did… to her.”

Voldemort was certainly looking into Severus’s mind. He hadn’t, at that point, mastered occlumency yet. “You know what Muggles deserve. We have much in common, Severus. We bear the names of the filth of the world, and we will reclaim our blood. Do as I have done, Severus. Prove yourself to be worthy.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Severus uttered, with a formal bow. “I will fulfill my task.”

“Good. I am proud of you, Severus. You are proving to be a most loyal servant. We have both been _cheated_ , Severus, _denied_ our potential through the sordid world of tainted blooded, worthless beings that roam this earth, stealing life, living in utter stupidity and filth. We have much in common, Severus.”

“Thank you, my Lord. I will go, my Lord.” Severus said, finally bringing his gaze to Voldemort’s eyes.

He apparated from the Riddle house quite easily into his father’s cell in a prison right outside of Cokeworth. He cast a disillusionment charm on himself, blending into the grey of the cell. His father was sleeping on the bottom bunk, snoring noisily. He had a cellmate above him, though Severus didn’t care much about whether the roommate were to watch what was to occur.

Silently, he cast the Imperious Curse on Tobias Snape, jolting him out of bed and forcing him to slam his head against the concrete wall of the cell, harder, harder, harder. Severus found himself growing out of hand, his teeth grinding together in rage, the thrusts of his wand guiding his father’s skull towards the cell wall growing faster and faster, more and more frenzied. His father’s skull resounded with a crack, as had his poor mother’s, and he finally released the spell, letting his father’s body fall onto the floor, a wanton of sobs and moans escaping his mouth. His cellmate had woken up, and was shouting for the guards. Severus cast a quick _silencio_ and then an _obscuro_ to ensure this common criminal’s silence before returning to the task at hand. He cast off the disillusionment charm, appearing before his father, who was looking at him with panicked eyes.

“ _You_... How…”

“My name is Severus.” he said. “Do you know what I’m going to do to you?”

“Severus… _Severus…_ please…”

“You sound like mum as she begged you for her life.” he said, jamming his dragonhide boots into his father’s face, effectively breaking his nose. “How did it feel to hear her screams as you crushed her skull, knowing that she couldn’t use her magic to fight back? How did it feel to know that the woman you supposedly loved, who had stooped down to be with the likes of you, was killed at your hand? You disfigured her, you bastard. You have no idea what I’m capable of…” he said, his voice growing into a crescendo. “ _Muffliato.”_ he cast, his voice low, hoping to not draw too much attention to what he planned to do next. He let the tension grow, relishing in it, basking in the fear in his father’s muted brown eyes.

“ _Crucio!_ ” he screamed, his voice shaking with rage.

His father began to writhe and scream as his body spasmed against the cold floor of his cell. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, his limbs flailing, grasping at something indiscernible, before his body slammed down again, the sound of cracking ribs reverberating throughout the small room. Severus could see the cellmate shaking in his bunk, his senses deprived, knowing only that a stranger was in the cell and he could hear the violent thuds of a body down below him. Using _wingardium leviosa_ wordlessly, he lowered his father’s cellmate onto the concrete floor, and cast a _crucio_ on him as well. He was, after all, a dirty criminal, scum even in the Muggle world. _Why not play with him as well?_ The two men flapped their limbs around the floor wildly, writhing in agony as the torture curse ravaged their bodies from the inside out. Severus was tempted to cast a _silencio_ on his father as well so as to keep the guards from coming so soon, though a part of him wanted to hear his screams, at least for a little bit. His mother had stopped screaming after a while, after all.

“Please, please…” Tobias Snape whispered, his body shuddering, organs impaled by his own cracked ribs. A bit of blood was trickling out of his mouth, his eyes were bloodshot. His cellmate was slamming his own head into the floor at this point, praying for the end.

Severus released the Cruciatus Curse, and approached his father, bending down on one knee to look at him laying there, completely broken, on the concrete floor of a Muggle prison.

“ _Avada kedavra._ ” he muttered coldly, the the tip of his raven wand resting directly on his father’s forehead.

There, it was over. He apparated back to the Riddle house. Voldemort was quite proud of him, and encouraged Severus to tell the rest of the Death Eaters and gritty details of his good work. Bellatrix approached him, letting her hands run up and down the black waistcoat lined with buttons which he had recently taken to wearing. It made him feel secure, and it was expensive, having earned some money patenting potions after completing his mastery. Bellatrix had always been a mad woman, and this was evidenced by her firm grasp about Severus’s 18-year-old cock through his black trousers, also lined with buttons. She licked his ear, before Voldemort called her off, circling Severus, licking his lips like a snake, observing him intently.

“Severus, you have done well.” he cooed, sending shudders down Severus’s spine. “We have also heard news that you are a rather intuitive young wizard. There is a certain spell you have made, one which we would all like very much to learn.”

“Yes, sir. _Sectumsempra_. It is a spell of my own making.”

“What does this spell do, Severus?” Voldemort asked, knowing the answer.

“It utilizes the position of the wand to slice its victims, sir.”

“And have you used this spell on another person as of now?”

“No, sir. Only on inanimate objects. I have intended it for practical use but…”

“Oh, we will make use of it yet, Severus. Would you please stand adjacent to that wall over there with your back to our little audience?” Voldemort said, pointing towards one of the empty walls in the sitting room. The Death Eaters watched on excitedly, Bellatrix practically squealing with joy and Fenrir uttering strange little grunts and brutish moans. Lucius seemed a bit nervous for his friend, and Narcissa could barely force herself to look on at what was to come.

“ _Sectumsempra!_ ” Voldemort hissed, slashing deep across Severus’s back. He bit his tongue to fight back a scream, knowing from his own father that this would only agitate the perpetrator further. Ah, practical lessons in Spinner’s End.

Severus could feel the air reaching his split skin. He would have to repair his overcoat after this ordeal. He knew no one could see the blood on his black clothing, though he was certain this meant that Voldemort wouldn’t stop until his blood was dripping all over the wooden floors. Voldemort cast the spell again, again, and again, until Severus slid down onto his knees, his back still facing the Dark Lord and his minions, blood forming a puddle around his feet.

“Narcissa, heal him.” Voldemort ordered. Narcissa jumped to the task, hurrying over to Severus and muttering healing spells, which only closed the wounds just enough to stop the bleeding. The pain was persistent.

“Can I have a turn, my Lord?” Bellatrix screeched, jumping up and down, a maniacal smile plastered across her pretty pale face.

“Of course, dear Bellatrix.” he said softly.

She proceeded, completely ruthless, relishing in his pain, all for her pleasure. Severus lost track of the time, a slew of Death Eaters having their turn at him with his own spell, Narcissa intermittently healing him so as to continue the torture.

 

***

 

Albany was sorting through potions again during detention. Severus didn’t trust her to brew any potions, as that would end in disaster and most certainly prove fatal for the stock required for the hospital ward. This would give her ample opportunity to drive him bloody insane, however. Jonas had finished his detentions in the dungeons weeks ago, and Severus had to keep from gagging every time that wretched Gryffindor winked or a blew a kiss at Albany. It reminded him of certain people from his past he wasn't too keen on thinking of, ever. It was late February, and the wretched girl had the rest of the year to spend pestering him. 

_Why did I do this to myself? You did do this to yourself, Sev. You bloody idiot._

Lately she had grown accustomed to singing relentlessly, simultaneously amusing and pissing him the fuck off. Lily had done the same thing, though she was certainly more charming and less obnoxious than this blasted girl ever was. Lily also had a much better singing voice, a dainty soprano. This girl sounded almost like a second-hand smoker at only 18-years-old.

 

_“The sweet pretty things are in bed now, of course_

_The city fathers, they're trying to endorse_

_The reincarnation of Paul Revere's horse_

_But the town has no need to be nervous...”_

 

“Would you please be quiet, Miss Newson?” Severus sighed, reluctant to take even more points from his own house. This girl was truly relentless.

“Why? It’s poetry. Dylan is a _master_.” she replied curtly.

Severus would never admit that he was, himself, a fan of Bob Dylan. He was reluctant to engage with her about his Muggle past, with his acquaintance with Muggle cinema, music, tv-shows, and culture. He wouldn’t let himself get personal with this child, he told himself adamantly. However, there was a nagging voice in the back of his mind that strange encouraged him to, which was oddly frightening. He hadn’t had anyone to talk to honestly besides Dumbledore, which was certainly telling.

“What is your opinion on American folk music?” she asked, her smile bright and her long hair flickering with her magic. She was impassioned about this subject, clearly.

Severus was silent for a moment, before finally deciding to indulge her. “I am a fan, I’ll admit. Joan Baez is a personal favorite.” Oh boy.

Albany’s jaw dropped. “Now only have I cracked your cold façade, I’ve discovered that you’re a Joanie fan! Oh, God! This is an incredible day!” Severus grinned. “You’re smiling! I’ve done it!”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Miss Newson. Return to your task.” he said, his tone lighter, more airier, continuing to scribble at his desk.

 

_“The ghost of Belle Starr, she hands down her wits_

_To Jezebel the nun, she violently knits_

_A bald wig for Jack the Ripper, who sits_

_At the head of the Chamber of Commerce…”_

 

“I can tell you like it, Professor. He’s got a crazy wild way with words. I’m envious, honestly. How does a little guy from Minnesota become such a legend?” Severus found himself grinning before realizing it. “I made you smile!” He immediately stopped grinning.

“You’re truly insufferable, do you know that, Miss Newson?”

 

_“Mama's in the factory, she ain't got no shoes_

_Daddy's in the alley, he's lookin' for food_

_I'm in the kitchen with the tombstone blues…”_

 

“I actually have a vinyl of that album somewhere. My father bought it when I was five, when it came out. He was always a fan of music. It was one of the few things he liked, albeit reluctantly. Well, I couldn’t even say he liked it. He never liked anything much.”

_You motherfucking idiot, Sev. Why are you talking about anything remotely personal with this blasted child?_

“Reminds me of my own father. That’s funny.” she mumbled, returning to her task.

“How so?” Severus inquired. Why was he pressing for more information?

"Cranky dads always like Bob Dylan, wouldn't you say so?" she said.

"I suppose..." he began.

“He’s become rather cold. Constantly paranoid about my mother’s free time. Drinking too much. You know, the classic destructive father TV trope.” she said casually, having interrupted him mid-sentence.

Severus felt all the muscles in his body clench all at once. Albany was proud, breaking through his walls. Damn, this man was growing more and more interesting with each passing moment…

“You are putting up your walls, Professor.” Albany said, squinting in his direction. He could feel the trickling sensation of legilimency, and decided to put an end to this here and now.

“Miss Newson, you will NOT use legilimens on me, your superior. How _dare_ you! You have some nerve even _attempting_ that with me. How. _Dare_. You.” he said, practically leaping from his desk and storming towards her.

She met his gaze, looking up at his tall frame with a soft yet inquisitive look in her stormy eyes.

“I’m sorry. It’s just rather tempting, I must admit. You… you’re fascinating. I’ve made you aware of my fascination with you.” she said, nearly pressed into his chest, looking up at him with wide eyes. He would himself frozen in space, suspended mid-motion, unable to get to grips with his senses.

“Why?” was all he could utter.

“I don’t know. Your mind is so closed off… how did you become this? This… resentful goth teaching in the dungeons of a school filled with children whom you loathe? What the hell kind of scenario is that?” Albany remarked, laughing mainly to herself.

“You’re one of the strangest students I have ever had the displeasure of teaching.”

“I’m honored. Truly.” she said, before turning away and returning to the sorting and organization of ingredients. She had been here so often that there was little sorting to be done. He knew she was mostly tapping on the glass vials, looking at everything that she had put in its place.

“You’re going to give me a terrible grade on my O.W.L. exam for potions, aren’t you?” she asked out of nowhere.

“Most likely. Given your performance, of course. Although, if I could, I would punish you academically for your repulsive personality, though that is not permitted, of course.”

Albany sighed. “And I was even considering studying. Well, not that it really means anything anyways.”

Severus found himself slightly offended, but trekked off to his lab to continue brewing. Back in his office, he could hear her singing the Dylan chorus all over again.

 

_“Mama's in the factory, she ain't got no shoes_

_Daddy's in the alley, he's lookin' for food_

_I'm in the kitchen with the tombstone blues…”_

 

He quietly sang along with her under his breath, loud enough so he could enjoy the melodic workings of a master, but quiet enough so to not let her notice that he was thoroughly entertained by her, by her presence, by her persistence. By Jove, did people have to be persistent in order to tolerate him at all.

“Hey! I think I heard you in there!” she shouted. He didn’t reply, but he did smile discreetly. She suddenly appeared at his desk. Oh, for Christ’s sake. “Sing louder!”

“Why in the world would I do that, Miss Newson? Get back to your task.” he asked.

“You have a great speaking voice, Professor. I feel like you’d have a real wicked singing voice.”

“ _Wicked_ , you say?” he snarled. “Please return to your task at hand before you bother me anymore with your juvenile follies.” She didn’t leave. “What do you want?”

“I… I don’t know.” she said, their eyes meeting. They both couldn’t look away for several long moments before Severus cleared his throat, standing up slowly to escort her out of the office. The moment he approached her, she latched onto his torso in a tight embrace. He didn’t fight it, he just stared down at her in shock and confusion. He smelled of sandalwood and myrrh, with the slightest hint of turpentine from working in the potions lab.

“What is it you think you are doing, Miss Newson?” he asked, totally and utterly befuddled.

“I have had a vision. About you, Professor. It… it is not good. I know you once wanted to kill people like me, and I can never truly forgive you for that, but you’ve… you’ve suffered, and you’re going to spend more and more years suffering. By the time the son arrives, you will have to dedicate seven sacral years to… to…” She suddenly burst into tears, burying her face into his robes. He did not push her away or scold her as he would have otherwise done. How the hell did she know this? He certainly hadn’t let her into his mind, his sacred place, his precious hovel of sad memories.

Before she knew it, Albany was sobbing uncontrollably, burying her face into the black robes of a man, a professor at her school, who did nothing but chastise and punish her for every little action and ever minor treason. Perhaps her hormones were a mess, which was likely, though she was being truthful about her prophecy. She had been seeing nothing in her dreams from Fae’s father screaming his lungs out in Azkaban, and the story of a grey town and a sad little boy coming to the school after her own departure from it. She was in charge of filling in the space, her mind whispered to itself. She wasn’t entirely sure what this all meant, but she felt it was necessary to divulge this information as soon as possible. It was hard enough figuring out how to bring it up. She thought maybe Dylan would do the trick. Professor Snape oddly seemed like the kind of guy to like angsty, downtrodden American tunes.

Not knowing entirely what to do, Severus continued to hold this girl who was shaking through tears. Slowly and hesitantly, he ran his hands up and down her back, comforting her the way his mother and Lily would whenever he was hurt or just plain sad.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” she said, her lip quivering. She looked up at him and their eyes met, a mutual understanding forming between the two of them. “Why did you kill Muggles, Professor?” This question was shocking. He didn't respond for several moments until he was able to collect himself.

“If you continue to come to my office, I will help you better understand your prophecies. Now, return to your dorm and collect yourself.” he said stoically, gently pushing her away from him. She nodded, still crying, and gathered her things and hurried out of his office.

He sat back down in his chair, his robe still wet from her tears, and put his face in his hands, kneading his forehead, panic welling up in his chest.

_The Dark Lord will return, Albus is certain of it. She seems to think so, as well, whether she is aware of it or not. Is this… was Albus aware of this… was he aware that she could know so much about the first war? What does she know about the second?_

He would have to see her again. He felt a need to comfort her, to console her, to listen to her tell more of the prophecies and that someone of her age certainly shouldn’t have to bear the great weight of.

 

***

 

Detention would become a therapy session, for the both of them.

“I killed a man, and his cat. He… he touched me, he made me touch him. I was very young, maybe four? He lived across the street in that empty lot, if you remember.” Albany began, her hands shaking in her lap as she sat across from Severus in his office having taken off her outer wear robe and left it hanging over the back of the chair adjacent to his desk.

“I knew it was wrong, I knew that my body was… no longer mine. I was an object, a piece of meat. After that, I ran back to my house and up to my room. I looked across the street, and felt fire in my fingers, seeping through my blood. Before I could process it, there was a kind of explosion from deep within my chest and the house was in flames. The man ran out into the front yard, burning alive… so was the cat… I had just wanted to pet his cat… the cat would speak to me. He screamed out his pain, he knew I was responsible. They both could speak, communicate with me, and they knew I was responsible. I mean, logically, how could they have? The circumstances of the blaze were a mystery. The police couldn’t figure out the source of the fire. My parents, you could tell by looking into their eyes that they suspected me, a young child, of murder. They ignored it, we never spoke of it, but I always knew that they knew.” Albany said, tears spilling down her face.

“You know, I never used to cry, but I’ve been crying a lot lately here. Isn’t that funny?” she said with a nervous laugh, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

“The boggart was my father.” Severus said, his voice stern and leveled. He looked deep into her eyes, deep into her soul, and found it pure, yet angry. Her mind was always so open, and although it was entertaining, even refreshing, to look into, he knew she would require lessons so as to retain some semblance of privacy.

“Your boggart was your father?” she said, her voice almost a whisper.

“My father… he was an alcoholic. He would beat my mother, he would beat me. He would come to disfigure both of us. I… I am covered in burns and scars. Cigarette burns. Glass. Broken bottles of beer and whiskey. He was a spiteful, cruel man. How else could he have behaved, could he have acted? He… he was a war veteran. He had served in World War II, which indeed has a complex history within both worlds, which you can read up on in your free time. My mother was also a half blood, but her father was of Jewish descent. Ashkenazi. Her mother was Turkish. She converted so that their children could... The _Prince_ family... Therefore… she… she… My mother's salvation was Hogwarts. They had offered her a spot there, and she took it. Her father would die in the camps. Her mother escaped, only to be killed later by some folks associated with Grindelwald. I had some aunts and uncles, but they've all died or disappeared now. My mother... was all alone by the time she finished school. She was all alone and vulnerable...” He paused, pinching the bridge his nose and closing his eyes, as though fighting through a headache.

“I could easily pretend at school that my mother’s line was pure. It was anything but. I come from a long line of subjugated witches tied down by Muggle men, taking advantage, abusing. It is a strange thing to know that such a phenomenon runs through your blood, that it is responsible for your very own existence. It makes you feel sick.” Snape snapped, his eyes glaring forward, looking at everything but nothing at the same time.

“I’m sorry, sir.” she said, looking at him with pure empathy. She still couldn't quite understand.

“I killed my father, Miss Newson.” He regretted his honesty the moments these words slipped from his lips. _Goddamnit, you’re done for, Sev. You’ll go straight to Azkaban for this, Dumbledore won’t vouch for you if this incredibly open, naïve, perky little girl’s mind stays open for much longer._

“You… you killed him?”

“Yes. Now, please, Miss Newson, I acted very impulsively. I should not have mentioned that. Please, please sit down.” he said, panicking, as Albany had gotten up and started backing away from him.

“I’ve also killed, Professor. I… I won’t tell anyone. I’ve been teaching myself occlumency… I don’t want anyone to know about our pasts. They’re between us.”

“Thank you… I can... I can offer you lessons this summer, if that is of interest to you.”

“Yes, it would be, thank you, Professor.”

“You… you may call me Severus, if you wish.” he said.

“Where does that name come from, may I ask?” Albany began. “It’s a very unusual name. I mean, Snape is very English and all that, not common in any way, but English... Severus is rather unusual, however.”

“It means ‘stern’ in Latin.” he grumbled. He hated explaining his name.

“Ah, how fitting.” she said a bit sarcastically.

“My mother and father, at one time, were particularly interested in saints and sainthood. It was the closest my father ever got to appreciating magic. It was… Severus of Naples, I believe, which caught their attention. Unfortunately, such names are considered of out style, and are targets for easy ridicule, as I learned throughout my youth.” Boy, did he learn this throughout his youth. His upbringing helped him embody his own name. Manifest destiny... truly, and repulsively manifested.

“Well my name is the capital of New York, which is _not_ New York City. So there.”

“Well, Albany is a pretty name.” What did he just say? Albany blushed.

“Thank you for… for everything, Severus. I cannot tell you how much it meant to me for this exchange. It was really helpful. I feel much better now, truly. I hope you have a wonderful evening. Goodbye.” She was being unusually polite and gentle.

“I will try my best. Thank you for the _encouragement_ , Miss Newson.”

“It’s Albany.”

“Yes, thank you, Albany.”

Her laugh rang throughout his office, and he couldn’t help but smile as she waved and hurried out, slamming his door in excitement and anticipation for spring break in the next few weeks of mid-March, where she had planned to engage in countless rendezvous, with Jonas _and_ Belle, and all throughout Hogsmeade. Hell, she could be the hog of Hogsmeade if she wanted to, and she would do so without shame!

 

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess Severus is sort of opening up? You have to be persistent I imagine. Severus has really been through some shit, though personally I think this is one of the few incidences he really 'enjoyed' using violence or force.
> 
> Albany is compulsive. Her pain has been left untreated, and is growing in its urgency and tendency to fester and boil over. A precipice is approaching, and it is a desperate one marked by disillusionment and erraticism.
> 
> Bob Dylan does bring about many revelations. I remember listening to it with my first girlfriend, and gasping at all the nuances of languages he creates. He's a true legend. Sometimes we'd pretend to be Joan Baez and Bob Dylan (I was Bobby, obviously). 
> 
> ~~~
> 
> Some music:
> 
> 1\. Miss World (Hole): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mS1Ckczz0LQ
> 
> 2\. Lost? (Coldplay): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pkgeai985rA
> 
> 3\. Lungs (Townes Van Zandt): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Rdm8LItAHs
> 
> 4\. Bigmouth Strikes Again (The Smiths): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yoKQwquHKQo
> 
>  
> 
> AND OF COURSE:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ag-Esuy44ks
> 
> SPOTIFY PLAYLIST: https://open.spotify.com/user/mooniemoe/playlist/1BftWaSHedV8PHnvuicKXB?si=LKrxiuVEQ165ytubpi2V2w


	9. Juvenille Inhibitions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is coming back from spring break and tensions are running high. Jonas and Albany are the dictionary definition of PDA, some Slytherins are plotting, friendships are tested, and Severus recalls the moment he thought he had the chance of winning Lily back.
> 
> *Per usual, use of cursing, more graphic descriptions of sexual encounters, etc.

 

***

 

The fifth year’s days leading up to spring break had been quite chaotic. Jonas had tried, and utterly failed, to convince Albany to arrange a threesome with Belle after having heard rumors of the two of them snogging, not knowing that Albany and Belle were involved on the side were very much exclusive. It is also important to note that Belle was, genuinely, very much _not_ interested in men.

Albany had told him to “bug off”, before he propositioned her a threeway with Fae, having heard of her more dark sexual proclivities. She slapped him upside the head at that comment, and proceeded to fall into a fit of laughter. Jonas was a rather funny bloke, with a vulgar mouth to boot. The pair were complementary in this way.

The date overall had gone decently well; they had kissed and caught the eyes of some patrons, and parted ways. Albany quickly headed to one of the unused broom closets when she returned to the castle to snog with Belle before really packing up her stuff and leaving promptly the next morning. Time home was distinctly uneventful. It felt like time stood still back in Blacksfield.

Jonas had sent her an owl requesting for their renewed meeting, to continue where things left off. She quickly wrote a reply confirming his request, and handed it off to his lithe little barn owl that his mother had given him for his birthday. She noticed her father in her peripheral vision, eyeing the bird and raising one eyebrow.

“What the hell was that? You’re a bird whisperer now?” Albany’s father mumbled.

“No, I… It’s… It’s the way we send letters.” She was nervous, knowing of her father’s dislike of magic and his general discomfort with the path his daughter’s education was taking at the present time.

“Well, who the hell was sending you a letter?” he asked.

“My… my boyfriend.” She wanted there to be some truth between them.

“You have a boyfriend? What’s his name?”

“Jonas.”

“So, he’s also a magical person?”

“Yes, dad. He is. He goes to school with me, so he is.” Albany said.

“Don’t get smart with me, Albie. It was just a question.” he paused, looking out the window as it expecting a slew of owls to break through the glass and flop like comatose fish across his dining room table. “Do you like your… school?” He hadn’t asked her about Hogwarts yet after her being there for almost two years.

“It’s a mixed bag.” she replied. Her father grunted, and headed back upstairs. She was relieved this conversation was over.

Albany’s mother drove her to London where she was to travel by floo powder to a family friend's house in Hogsmeade, since they had missed the Hogwarts Express a few days due to logistics, with Andrea and her family. Andrea introduced Albany’s mother to her family, and Albany’s mother was absolutely entranced by them.

“They’re… they’re so lovely! And those outfits!” Albany’s mother squeaked into her daughter’s ear. Albany couldn’t help but chuckle.

Albany’s mother and Andrea’s parents assembled at their charming London flat’s furnace, and watched as their girls were consumed by green flame. Albany’s mother yelped in surprise, and Andrea’s mother rubbed her shoulder, reassuring her that they were alright.

“They’ll be fine, dear. They’re going to the local wizarding town. Now, can we get you something to drink?” Andrea’s mother cooed, leading Albany’s mother to their kitchen, where house elves were already preparing a delightful lunch.

 

***

 

Jonas and Albany were back at it again in the little pub-setting, grinning maliciously at each other, feet rubbing up against one another's underneath the table, having Butterbeer chugging contests before starting classes the next day. Jonas paid their way, as he always did, and she took him by the elbow as he led her out of The Three Broomsticks, back into the crisp Scottish air.

“You know, you can come stay with us this summer. We have two whole spare bedrooms, an observatory, and... horses! You told me how you used to love to ride, didn’t you?” Jonas said, clutching her waist from behind and burying his face in her hair, not tentative at all about public displays of affection.

“Although I’m smitten by your offer, love, I will need to go home. My father is very… sensitive… about the wizarding world. He doesn’t like the idea of his daughter being a witch, much less practicing magic. Consider it a miracle that I’m even here in the first place.” she said, gently touching his left cheek with her left hand while remaining in this rather cumbersome embrace.

“I’d hex my Pa if he ever tried that on me. Well, I guess we’re lucky. He’s a bit of an eccentric guy, always had a thing for wild women. Ma’s just that, then…” He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

“Lucky you.” Albany said, a bit bitter, putting up a bit of resistance. She broke free of Jonas’s hold and walked a few paces away from him, wrapping her arms around her cable knit sweater. “Is there anywhere else you want to go before we leave, Jonas?”

“I want to go wherever you want.” he said earnestly. They always played this game.

“No, you decide.” she said over her shoulder as she began walking, suddenly slamming head first into someone’s rather chiseled chest, the kind of build a Quidditch player would have.

“Watch it.” a gruff voice mumbled. It was a sixth year named Jaxton Ajax Myerscough, the Slytherin seeker.

“Sorry, Jax.” Albany said, assuming there would be some level of familiarity given that they were in the same house and sat only a few yards away from each other during meals.

“What in the hell made you think I’d let you call me ‘Jax’?” he growled. She looked up at his tall, muscular frame and found that his eyes were filled with rage. What had she done?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think that would be an issue.”

“You know you make Fae’s life a living hell, don’t you?” he spat in her face. Jonas approached Albany and tried to put his hand around his waist, though she promptly slapped him away, not wanting his interference.

“What, with your Gryffindor boyfriend, she knows you think you’re better than everyone else. Why are you even in Slytherin?” he said, spewing out these rapidfire thoughts she didn’t even know he had in him.

“The Sorting Hat doesn’t make mistakes… Mr. Myerscough.” she snapped, making sure to over-articulate his last name, pushing back with whatever weak force she could muster against his strong chest, continuing her walk down the streets of Hogsmeade.

“I think it did, Albany! I would watch your back if I were you. Watch who you’re friends with, watch your allegiances. Just watch your back.” he shouted at her.

“Are you threatening me? What did I ever do to you, or Fae, or to anyone!” Albany cried out, turning around, completely and utterly exasperated.

Jaxton didn’t reply. He simply narrowed his hazel eyes and continued his walk, soon to be joined by Arnold, Barnaby, Fae, and another particularly unpleasant Slytherin sixth year and Slytherin beater called Bryce Antony Razget… and… Mpho?!

“What the fuck!” Albany burst out, locking eyes with Mpho as he blushed and hurried up to join his new little crowd, clearly trying to walk as close to Arnold as was physically possible.

“Mpho fucking ditched me!” She could feel tears welling in her eyes, and again wacked away Jonas’s attempts at an embrace. “I need… I need to go back to the castle… to keep unpacking… I’ll see you, Jonas…” she said, holding back tears, giving a quick peck on Jonas’s cheek as she sprinted back to the castle, ignoring his cries of protest entirely.

She hurried as fast as she could to the kitchens, not knowing where to proceed from there. She knew that the Hufflepuff Common Room entrance was somewhere around here, but she, as all Slytherins were guaranteed to not know, simply had no clue as to where it was. There was rumored to be something about barrels? Oh, those fucking adorable little Hufflepuffs.

The house elves were giving her strange looks as she paced back and forth, and she began to panic, grasping the robes of the first Hufflepuff she saw. It was Nymphadora, her hair a brilliant shade of electric pink. She was always one to look at, and Albany liked her very much, despite their being just acquaintances.

“Nymphadora!” she cried out, looking a little manic.

“It’s just… Tonks.” Tonks replied, blinking, backing up a few paces. “What’s wrong, Albany?” Albany knew Tonks didn’t like her very much.

“Is Belle inside? Can you get her for me?”

“Sure, let me go see.”

Albany, out of respect for the privacy of the sweet house of Hufflepuff, closed her eyes, and after what felt like hours of waiting behind the darkness of her eyelids, she was wrapped in Belle’s warm scent as she embraced Albany tenderly.

“What’s wrong?” Belle asked, running her hands through Albany’s hair. “Come in, you’re not in your uniform so no one can tell… just…”

“Oh no, we can tell. No one outside of Hufflepuff has ever been in our Common Room, and that legacy is not going to change today. Get. Also, sorry if that sounded harsh.”

It was a seventh-year Hufflepuff prefect girl who practically apparated into the kitchens, standing in front of a particularly impressive assemblage of barrels. It seems like the badgers were not very welcoming to snakes in their hovel.

“Sorry, nevermind. Let’s just go for a walk, okay?” Belle said, tucking up close to Albany, walking with her through the halls.

They were privy to looks and stares, as some word had gotten out that the two had snogged ‘on a dare’. The less they knew, the better.

“Mpho ditched me for a group of blood purists.” Albany finally broke down, sobbing into Belle’s arms. “All because he’s obsessed with that fucking prefect, Arnold! Mpho let his dick get in the way of everything, everything we had! They don’t even like him!” She sobbed piteously, practically collapsing down on Belle’s petite frame, the poor valiant little Hufflepuff doing everything she could to support her friend and support her weight underneath said friend.

“I am good at hugs but I don’t know how good I am with advice.” Belle said after a few moments. “I say we pay a visit to Ravenclaw Tower. Hm?” Albany nodded between sniffles.

The two walked up to the entrance to Ravenclaw Tower, where a group of first years were struggling to decode the day’s riddle. Albany didn’t even want to hear it. She thought she would have made a good Ravenclaw except for the fact that there was that blasted riddle monster you had to deal with incessantly for seven straight years. She would go mad and blast the damn thing into oblivion after that long. Now, that is what made her a Slytherin.

“Can someone get Andrea?” Belle asked, an older Ravenclaw boy nodding, mumbling the password and releasing a tidal wave of first-years into the Ravenclaw Common Room.

Soon, Andrea came out, still in her pajamas and in the midst of unpacking. Albany burst into tears again at the sight of her, and the two girls led her down the corridor before she collapsed, making a scene of herself as she had so often proved to do.

“Mpho betrayed her and is hanging out with some blood purists. We just got back from break and he’s pulling this shit.” Belle said.

“It’s because of Arnold Slythorn, isn’t it?” Andrea asked. It was a rhetorical question. They both nodded.

“Well, he’s just trying to impress someone he’s enamored with. He’ll realize that it’s not to be and he’ll come back, and we will teach him his lesson and he will have learned most of it himself. Most of it. It will all be fine.” Andrea consoled Albany, lightly petting the top of her head as she stood adjacent to this weeping girl sprawled like a broken doll on the corridor floor.

“I just want to go to bed.” Albany cooed, looking up at her two lovely friends with tears in her eyes. “I just… I need to sleep. I’m… I’m feeling very nervous… my heart is pounding...”

“Of course, hun, there’s a lot going on.” Belle said, Andrea nodding in agreement. The two lifted her up, tossing each one of her arms over one another’s shoulders before trekking down to the dungeons.

 

***

 

Albany woke up in a cold sweat, beads of congealed salty droplets landing on her eyebrows from her forehead. She had never been in such a state before. All was coming back to her, all these repressed emotions, these visions, this aura of confidence and the falsehood of her nonchalant nature was all coming to one cruel and mocking head. Her hands were shaking as she had been woken up by Fae’s owl Frederik, who was shrieking in his gilded silver cage and slamming his stupid, pretty head against the cage door. He was a lovely screech owl, very handsome and very well-patterned, but a complete moron otherwise.

Albany always got up before Fae, dressing quickly, tending to her face and applying her usual minimal makeup, tying up her long hair before organizing her books and supplies for the day, and brushing her teeth in the communal Slytherin bathrooms. Finally, she was ready, and hurried out of the common room and headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

She sat by herself until Mpho arrived. They exchanged nervous glances for a moment, before Albany decided to half-forgive him, patting the seat next to her, inviting him to sit down next to him. She wanted to forgive him, knowing that he would likely still pursue Arnold. She wanted him to express his love for someone else, even if said person wasn’t particularly kind to her. She was trying her best to be as much as a Hufflepuff as she could be in this moment. They had a way with forgiveness and common decency that she greatly admired.

They awkwardly hugged and began to chat about various safe and pleasant topics: friends, family, classes, schoolwide gossip about who’s snogging who, who managed to prank Filch this week, et cetera.

In the midst of conversation, a pink and purple wrapped present levitated over towards the Slytherin table, garnering lots and lots of attention, before plopping into the lap of one particularly dumbstruck and eccentric Muggle-Born Slytherin. She could practically hear the eye rolls throughout the Great Hall. She looked over to Jonas, who was practically standing on the Gryffindor table to get a good look of her reaction, and she smiled and gave him a thumbs up.

“He’s trying to be the real charmer.” Mpho laughed.

“I can tell!” she laughed.

“I’m jealous.” Mpho mumbled, stabbing at his eggs with a fork.

Albany immediately noticed a group of Slytherin seventh years mumbling to each other and looking over at her.

She looked back to the Gryffindor and saw Jonas, gesticulating for her to join them, one arm wrapped around Charlie Weasley, yet another Weasley, his best mate and head of the Quidditch Team and a real overall nice guy. Jonas and Charlie were whispering to each other, eyeing the Slytherin table as though a fight were to break out at any moment. She knew that there must be all this talk about her. She felt torn between the two most arrogant and volatile houses at Hogwarts, and it made her feel incredibly flustered and anxious. Albany stood up to head over to the Gryffindor table, but she was stopped by a hand grabbing her wrist.

“Albany,” It was Fae. “I’d recommend watching your back. I talked to Arnold about getting them to leave you alone, but I can’t make any promises they will.”

Albany blinked at Fae, amazed at her sudden concern as well as the implications of what she was saying.

“What do you mean?” she asked. Fae didn’t respond, and hurried out of the Great Hall after having only been there for a few brief moments. She didn’t even eat breakfast. Something was going on.

Albany turned back to Mpho and shrugged, opening the gift Jonas had given her to find a beautiful garnet necklace with a gold chain. It was her birth stone. She blushed. No one had ever given her jewelry other than her parents.

She could hear the snickering again. Her eyes drifted to the whispering upperclassmen and so she abruptly decided to get up and walk over to the Gryffindor table, plopping down next to Jonas and letting him drape his arm across her shoulder. He kissed her sloppily on the cheek, and she grinned while Charlie awkwardly introduced himself.

“We haven’t really spoken before.” he said, patiently waiting for Jonas to stop nipping at Albany’s earlobe before shaking her hand.

“No, we haven’t. I heard you’ve been loving Care of Magical Creatures. It’s one of my favorite classes too. You’re pretty well known for your natural spark with creatures.” Albany remarked.

“Why, thank you! Yeah, I definitely do like it. Always been fascinated with them. Back home, I would sneak out at night and catch Bowtruckles. I always felt too bad to take them home, so I put them back. Mum would get real mad once she found out I’d snuck out. Or one of my siblings told her. The latter is probably true.” Charlie said.

“I’ve heard much of your family, they sound lovely.” Albany said, before suddenly being pulled into a passionate kiss with Jonas. She was a bit embarrassed and caught off guard, but tried to reciprocate in the least awkward way possible.

Once he pulled away, Albany turned to lock eyes with Juliet, a fellow fifth-year Gryffindor. Juliet glared at her for a moment before returning to her breakfast, dramatically whipping out a copy of The Daily Prophet.

“Let me put the necklace on you.” Jonas said, gesturing for her to turn around.

He put the garnet necklace around her neck and fastened it, before lifting her up and seating her on his lap. It was rather uncomfortable due his skinny legs hitting all the pressure points of her bum, but Albany blushed at all the attention they were getting, but went along with whatever he had planned. He brought her in for another deep kiss.

“It’s not everyday a Slytherin gets so comfortable at the Gryffindor table.” Juliet remarked, all while casually reading The Daily Prophet.

Jonas pulled out from the kiss and looked at Juliet for a moment with an expression Albany couldn’t entirely read. Sure, Albany knew all about Juliet and Jonas. Their minds were weak, untuned to the invasion of legilimency. She didn’t want Jonas to know what she knew.

Otherwise, what kind of diminishment of power would that bring him? All this boy needed was a little bit of validation, and Albany was willing to let bygones be bygones. She was, after all, very much enamored by a certain Hufflepuff.

“I am certainly comfortable. Thanks, Juliet.” Albany sneered, before turning back to Jonas and giving him probably the most passionate kiss she had ever attempted to give anyone in her life.

She had kissed two different people in total, but this surpassed all previous attempts, and it was highly fake and staged. It was all for show, it was a cruel attempt to make this girl jealous, this girl who was _actually_ in love with Albany’s boyfriend. She knew that this scene was getting lots of attention. She could practically feel all the heads of the Great Hall turning.

Suddenly, Albany was whipped off of Jonas’s lap and pushed all the way back towards the Slytherin table by some invisible force to her seat next to Mpho. Albany looked up to see McGonagall’s stern face, wand drawn and pointed directly at her, and Dumbledore’s highly amused one. Professor Sprout looked like she was experiencing a tidal wave of second-hand embarrassment. Albany didn’t want to even look at Snape.

Mpho was bursting out laughing. “Oh my God, Albany! She got you!” he said, barely restraining himself.

Albany laughed as well, her eyes welling up with tears, slamming her fists against the Slytherin table. A few of the seventh year Slytherins shook their heads and got up to leave.

“Finish your damn oatmeal, Mpho. We have… Oh, shit. We have Transfiguration.”

Mpho laughed even louder, and before they knew it, the pair were in an absolute fit of giggles. They didn’t realize that everyone else had cleared from the Great Hall and the leftover food had been banished away by the house elves.

“Who knew humiliation could be this funny?” Albany gasped, collapsing forward grasping at the sleeves of Mpho’s robes to regain her balance while hiccuping with hysterics.

“Get. To. Class.” Ah, a familiar voice. Albany looked up to finally realize she and Mpho were the only students left in the Great Hall.

“Yes, of course, Professor Snape.” Mpho said, being one of many students completely terrified of the man. He nodded at Albany, gathered his stuff, and walked briskly out of the Great Hall, seemingly forgetting that he and Albany were supposed to be going to Transfiguration class _together_.

“I am amazed at how little regard for appearances you have, Miss Newson.” he said in his signature drone, avoiding making eye contact.

“You watched all that, Severus? What are you, a pervert?” She knew he wasn’t, but for some reason she was highly curious to see his reaction.

Severus immediately tensed. “Get to class, Miss Newson.”

“No answer. So, yes.” she said, beaming sarcastically at him before hightailing it to face McGonagall’s wrath. That woman did not tolerate tardiness. Severus was infuriated, as usual. _She can be somewhat entertaining, I suppose._

 

***

 

Severus was walking through the streets of Hogsmeade, hoping to catch Lucius at The Hog’s Head before he had to be back at the castle. He was completing his final year at Hogwarts and was excited to hear all about Lucius’s interactions with the most powerful wizard in the world.

Severus himself had just turned eighteen a few weeks prior, and wanted to thank Lucius for the package he had discreetly delivered. It had been both a birthday present and a commemorative gift, as Severus had requested to take his N.E.W.T. exam in Potions early and had officially been commemorated as a Master of Potions. With that terribly unflattering photo of himself clutching his marked up textbook sitting behind rows of other, more favorable students’ portraits, Severus couldn’t protest. He was simply happy to have proved himself in some way. Slughorn offered Severus a position as his teaching assistant for the rest of the academic year, and he respectfully declined, stating that he wanted more time to study for his other exams. This was far from the truth, however.

He had been working long and hard on spells he hoped would impress his sympathizers, and… perhaps… someone else. With a vial of Felix Felicis, which he had quite effortlessly won from Slughorn, he hoped that his day would go well after he got through this visit with Lucius. He was wearing the Slytherin broach his ‘friend’ had gotten for him on his black robes, which had begun to develop a rather billowing effect as of late. He had sprouted seven whole inches in the last year, and was now a gangly mass of limbs adorned in black. He was quite the odd sight to behold.

He opened the door to see not just Lucius, but… a whole slew of faces he didn’t know.

“Ah, Severus. Good to see you. Come, take a seat.” Lucius said, his handsome face lit up with a devilish grin.

This group was taking up most of the bar, and the other customers were clearly uncomfortable around them. They were a menacing group, indeed, adorned in all black, with savage, scarred faces and wild, cruel eyes. Severus began to feel that adrenaline rush he felt that same sense of power that came with cruelty. It hadn’t yet crossed his mind that his father must have felt the same way with his little family.

Severus went over and took a seat, almost flinching at Lucius’s hand giving him a hard slap on the back.

“You’ve met my new wife, Narcissa. Narcissa, Severus. Severus, Narcissa.” Lucius purred. The two shook hands and exchanged formalities. “Crabbe and Goyle are here, I’m sure you remember them. Now, you haven’t yet met Bellatrix. Here we have Avery, Mulciber, Rosier… all your friends. Rodolphus. Rabastan. Rowle. Dolohov. Little Crouch.” That last title was greeted with a nasty “Hey!”.

“So… this is the little devil you’ve been blabbering about… not much of a pretty boy, is he?” Bellatrix grinned, tracing his body with one forefinger.

“No, but this little bastard is damn good with a hex or curse. He can brew up anything.” Lucius said. Severus was always relatively impressed by the sap’s respect for him. It was somewhat telling. “I see you’re wearing the pin I gave you, Severus.”

“Yes, thank you.” he replied curtly.

“OUT, OUT, GET OUT!” The barmaid called, emerging from the back kitchen. “I know what you’re all up to in here, and we don’t meddle with the likes of you! Now, OUT!”

Bellatrix and Dolohov smiled maniacally at each other before drawing their wands. The other bar patrons gasped, some fleeing before Crouch and Crabbe blocked the doors.

“We simply want to pay for our drinks, what more can we ask?” Bellatrix said in a perverted little baby voice, putting her pale, gaunt face up close with the pink, sweaty one of the poor frazzled woman asking for their departure.

“Is there a… problem?” Dolohov hissed, drawing his wand across the clavicle of the woman. Her breath hitched, her chest flushed, she was immobilized by fear.

“Severus, it would be best if you headed out now. We wouldn’t want your schooling to be compromised. Now, run along. We’ll make time for proper introductions later.” Lucius whispered in Severus’s ear, pointing towards the door.

Disappointed and feeling like a child, Severus pushed past the Death Eaters blocking the door and began to head back to the castle. He saw a bit of red, and soon realized that James and Lily were walking together towards him in the opposite direction. He panicked, they were too close for him to turn around, and it would be too obvious if he were to try to duck away into an alley. He took a deep breath, and walked forward, slowly, casually, as though completely unphased.

When he was but ten feet from them, there was a sudden explosion and the sound of screams and burning wood. They had completely decimated the bar, likely murdered that poor woman, and were now setting fire to the surrounding buildings and cursing anyone who tried to intervene.

“What the hell!” James cried out, wrapping his arms around Lily, shielding her from the falling rubble. “Oh, for Christ’s sake, it’s those damn…” Before he could finish, he looked up and locked eyes with Severus. Suspicions raced through James’s mind. “You! You think this is funny, don’t you? Are these your new _friends_?”

Lily looked up at him, her face filled with fear. He liked that, for some reason. He liked the idea that she knew he was powerful, that he could hold his own. He turned around to see that all his fellow Death Eaters had already disapparated out of Hogsmeade.

“I don’t know who you’re speaking of, Potter.” he said, his voice in the development stage of his signature cold sneer, his crooked nose upturned, acting completely unphased by the chaos going on around him.

James and his gang had stopped bullying him, having fortunately outgrown it, but the resentment was still there, and it remained strong. His new mechanism for self defence was to act like he thought himself better than everyone else. In some sense, it was true. He was, perhaps, the smartest student in their year. Sure, his social graces were underdeveloped, but he had perfect O-Levels in all of his classes and proved to be an ingenious thinker and a hardworking student. It was all in the name of Eileen Prince.

“Pretend you don’t know, Snape. Keep that up. At least _we_ know where your loyalties lie.” James spat, wrapping an arm around Lily’s waist and pulling her close to walk with him. “Nice snake pin, by the way. Makes you look like a right proper blood purist twat.”

“James!” Lily said, playfully covering James’s mouth before giving Severus one final look over his shoulder. It was unreadable.

_Do I have a chance?_

Power. That was what he needed to prove he was worthy of her. James had all of that. Quidditch Seeker and Captain. Stellar student. Handsome. Good family. Pureblood. Popular. Charming. Sexy, even.

_I will never be those things… but I will have power._

 

***

 

Detention with Filch was how Albany and Jonas would spend their Monday evening. They had been caught by the slimeball and his feline compadre in a rather compromising position. She had been blowing him in a broom closet, and Filch had thrown open the door, maniacally shouting “Peeves!” as though expecting him rather than a Slytherin giving head to a fucking Gryffindor; of all house combinations, this had to be the most bizarre.

They were in Filch’s office, which was certainly a change to Albany’s usual evenings in detention. She actually had to run down the dungeons to tell Severus that she would be spending her detention today with Filch. He seemed to have immediately used legilimency on her due to being genuinely curious as to what she had done to other teachers, and was… a bit shocked… by what he saw, to say the least. _This girl is out of control. Is she… is she stable? Even I wasn’t like this back in the days of You-Know-Who’s revels…_

“Embarrassing, right? By the way, maybe you shouldn’t look into the minds of your students so frequently. You should develop some legilimency etiquette.” she said, rather politely, before turning around and heading back out of the dungeons. “Yes, I can tell when you’re trying to look into my mind now. It feels like your brain is being tickled, just a bit. I thought maybe I was just crazy. It’s always you.” She had caught him in the act, and he was, admittedly, a bit embarrassed.

“Wait!” he cried. She turned around, raising one eyebrow in imitation of him. “I wanted to apologize to you. I should not have embarrassed you in front of the class… with the scarf incident. That was very uncouth of me.”

“Thank you, Professor… that’s actually… quite kind of you. Thank you.”

“Now, go back to detention to serve out your punishment.” he said, putting on his mask of a stern and domineering professor. Her smirk nearly broke him, however. _Why doesn’t she hate me more, any other student would have… most would be terrified by me at this point. That’s what I want. What the fuck is up with this insolent child?_

Albany and Jonas sat side by side in Filch’s office, manually going through student profile files from the past 20 years. Albany thought they were rather interesting, but Jonas looked like all he was interested in was trying to get frisky while Filch was in the room, completely oblivious. Albany was very much not interested, but finally caved to letting him keep his left hand on her right thigh throughout the course of the detention. Otherwise, it wasn’t nearly as eventful as Albany’s time with the notorious potions master. She found herself quite bored.

There she was. _Lily Evans._ Her moving portrait grinned up happily at her as her full student profile lay bare before her. She wasn’t supposed to look into the profiles, per say, though she was curious about the woman who sacrificed everything for her child. She had loved that story when she first read about it, that summer which felt so very long ago when she was first doing research on this entire world she had been missing out on.

She was beautiful. The photo was from their last day at Hogwarts, right on the edge of freedom, adulthood, and the wide wizarding world. Her eyes were electric green, her hair long, red, and silky. She actually reminded Albany of her own mother in a way. This woman, this witch, was simply born to be a mother to someone, to anyone. She was nurturing, she was doting. She was another Muggle-Born. Gryffindor. _Would I have been safer in Gryffindor with Jonas? They’re perfectly fine, unless you get too much on their bad side…_

“That’s Lily Potter. Nice.” Jonas whispered, noting all of her academic achievements and extracurriculars. “Stop goggling, Albany. I know, she’s pretty, the tabloids know, we all know. Now come on, let’s get this shit done for and then we can snog and go to sleep!” Jonas said, nibbling her earlobe before nipping it gently.

“Alright, alright.” she whispered back, nudging him off.

Filch jerked his head around and the two looked down again, returning to their task of sorting through bins of student files by hand.

Albany suddenly realized that Severus’s file could be in one of these boxes. Boy oh boy, did she need to see that. She didn’t quite know why, but she knew she had to. Or, at least, she wanted to very much.

She needed a way to distract both Filch and Jonas if what she had planned was going to work. Wordlessly and wandlessly, she summoned her wand back from where Filch had hidden them. Easy enough. Yes, she could have done it this whole time, but what use would getting into more trouble be if she were found out?

With a discrete wave of her wand underneath the table, she knocked down a rather precarious small table loaded with filing cabinets, all of which spilled to the ground. During the mayhem of the crash and both men’s distraction, Albany quickly muttered, “ _accio Severus Snape student file_ ”, and, voila, it worked!

_Huh, that was a bit unexpected..._

She sloppily folded up the files and stuffed them into her robe before getting up and trying to help a crabby Mr. Filch clean up his office all over again.

“Peeves!” Filch roared. It was convenient that he suspected all tampering was from one looney pest of a ghost. Peeves certainly did take the weight of a lot of student-derived mischief.

Jonas had to get back to the Gryffindor Common Room quickly, as his prefect duties were quite demanding, and he had a major need to keep up appearances.

Albany kissed him goodbye, as she walked slowly back to the Slytherin common room, pausing to stop at some of the great windows on the upper floors of the castle she didn’t get to entirely experience spending so much time in the dungeons. She saw something out by the Forbidden Forest. It was a spark of something bright, something white, something distinctly inhuman, gliding above the foliage...

 

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Albany is definitely being threatened by other bullying Slytherins. Be warned, shit is going to hit the fan quite soon. Being a Seer has its merits, but it also is a rather dangerous identity. I think that can be true for a lot of labels we are given but don't necessarily have a choice in. Sure, Albany predicted it vaguely, though it has since brought her nothing but struggles. For an ambitious Slytherin, she sure as hell seems to be limited in her options for potential ambitious pursuits. Now that is the kryptonite of a motherfuckin' Slytherin.
> 
> ~~~
> 
> Music references:
> 
> 1\. The Kiss (The Cure): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BNTrm67-g8Q
> 
> 2\. Catch A Falling Star (Marc & The Mambas): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eo6TpIj4pD0
> 
> 3\. Green Magic (Edie Brickell & The New Bohemians): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wg76xdjtFeI
> 
> SPOTIFY PLAYLIST: https://open.spotify.com/user/mooniemoe/playlist/1BftWaSHedV8PHnvuicKXB?si=LKrxiuVEQ165ytubpi2V2w


	10. Waking The Witch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus reminisces on silent films and then drinks alone, and Albany learns more about her role as a Seer after experiencing vivid visions.

 

***

 

_Warum hast du ihn geheiratet, Mama?_

“Why did you marry him, mum?” Severus asked, holding onto his mother’s hand as she led him towards a rare treat: the cinema.

_Ich liebe deinen Vater, Severus. Er hat mir so viele Dinge beigebracht, er hat mir so viele erstaunliche Dinge gezeigt._

_Er brachte mir alles über Kunst, Architektur und Literatur bei. Dein Vater, er ist ein gebildeter Mann, Severus. Er… er hat Schwierigkeiten, sich um Alkohol zu kümmern. Wir wissen das. Er ist brillant, Severus. Er hat so schöne Poesie und Poesie für mich geschrieben! Ich muss es irgendwo finden. Ich werde sehen, ob er mir nach all den Jahren die Erlaubnis gibt, es erneut zu lesen._

“I love your father, Severus. He taught me so many things, he showed me so many amazing things.” she began. “He taught me all about art, architecture, literature. Your father, he’s an educated man, Severus. He… he has trouble controlling himself around alcohol. We know this. He’s brilliant, Severus. He has written such lovely poetry, and poetry for me! I’ll have to find it somewhere. I will see if he gives me permission to read it again, after all these years.”

_Ich würde es gerne hören Würdest du es mir vorlesen, wenn er dich lässt?_

“I would like to hear it. Would you read it to me if he lets you?” Severus asked. He did love it when his mother read to him, especially when she’d read whatever wizarding books she had managed to hang on to from her own childhood.

_Wenn er mir die Erlaubnis gibt._

"If he gives me permission."

Today, they were going to see Eileen’s favorite films, and, she wouldn’t ever tell Severus this, the Muggle film she had seen on her first date with Tobias: _Cœur Fidèle_.

The 1923 French silent film tells of a destitute orphan girl named Marie who works in a bar for her adoptive parents who neglect her. She is constantly visited by Petit Paul, a cruel, vicious, and possessive man, who makes a deal with her adoptive parents for their marriage. However, Marie has a secret lover, Jean, who she had hoped to secretly elope with. Petit Paul obtains Marie’s hand in marriage and takes her out to a fair, where she sits with a brooding expression plastered onto her stormy blue eyes as he kisses and nibbles at her face and neck as the ride they are on spins around and around and around.

Eventually, Jean realizes what has happened and seeks them out, confronting Petit Paul and eventually fighting him. The police come, Jean is captured, and Petit Paul escapes. Roughly a year or two later, Jean is out of prison and works menial manual labor. He starts to look for Marie, but finds her to be a mother with a sick child. Petit Paul is a dangerous alcoholic, beating his wife regularly and spending all their money on booze and cigarettes. Jean finds out where Marie and Petit Paul live, and confides in their crippled next-door neighbor, who vows to protect them. Petit Paul eventually finds out about Jean and Marie’s reunion, and comes home one day with a pistol on hand. A struggle ensues, the crippled woman obtains Petit Paul’s gun, Petit Paul is shot, and the lovers are left to live carefree, wrapped in each other’s arms.

The imagery that was so striking to Severus, even as a child, was that the two lovers left the sick bastard child behind with the crippled woman to take care of. How was this a happy ending? They were both cheated by the world, and there was no redemption for either of them, despite having been essential characters in this odd little story.

“This is a favorite movie of mine, Severus. It’s just playing in a screening in another town. We’ll have a walk down the main road. You might fall asleep.” she said, grasping his frail little hand in hers. She didn’t know how to drive, which didn’t matter, since Tobias would never let her touch his crappy car that he loved more than his own wife and child. They had to walk to the next nearest town, which was several miles away, on foot.

_Kann Lily kommen?_

“Can Lily come?”

_Wir können sie fragen, während wir unterwegs sind._

Eileen grew tense. “We can ask her while we are on our way.”

She knew the Evans would say no. She could tell that they found her physical appearance, much less her home, to be rather off-putting and unattractive.

Eileen knew she was wasting away, what, with little to no food for herself, as she gave whatever scraps they had to her only son. Her long, black hair was littered with split ends, her skin was sallow, her near-black eyes were sunken into her skull. She still longed to be the pretty, fresh young girl she was back at Hogwarts. She felt weak, sepulchral. Every step hurt in her shoes that were two sizes too small. She was once quite a pretty young woman, getting a bit of attention from boys in her house back in the day.

Not only did the Evans think of themselves as much better than the Snape family, they certainly wouldn’t want their youngest daughter walking over to the next town with the likes of them. However, she didn’t want to crush Severus’s heart, and decided it was worth the time to just drop by, if it made her son happy.

They approached the Evans house, and Severus knocked on the door excitedly. Petunia Evans came to the door, and scowled, narrowing her eyes at the sight of Severus’s mother standing behind her son.

“Hello, Petunia.” Severus said, a bit coldly. “My mum and I were wondering if Lily would like to come to the cinema over in Blackburn.”

Lily and Petunia’s mother appeared at the door, a bit taken aback to see Severus’s mute, frail, dark-haired mother standing meekly behind him, letting her 10-year-old son do all the talking.

“That’s quite a ways away. Are you going to drive?” Lily’s mother asked Severus’s mother, who flinched as the question was being directed her way.

“We were planning to walk.” Severus answered for his mother. Lily soon appeared at her mother’s side, smiling at Severus.

“Hello Lily, my mum and I were going to see a movie and were wondering if you would like to come with us.”

“Oh, I’d love to! Mum, can I?” Lily asked, grasping her mother’s apron. Her mother glanced quickly at Severus and then to Eileen.

“I’m afraid you have too many chores to do, young lady.”

“Oh, but please!”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Snape, but we will have to wait for another time. We hope you understand.” Lily’s mother said with a plastered smile, before closing the door, despite Lily’s protests.

Severus shuddered. He felt like crying. He let himself fall into his mother’s arms and her kisses as she led him out towards the main road, where they would walk for several hours until they arrived in Blackburn.

Severus had been transfixed by the film. His eyes were practically glued to the screen, and by the time the film was through, he hardly realized that it was already quite late out. The two of them had quite a long walk back home, and, on their way there, they were stopped by a group of Muggles in a car on the side of the road.

“Do you n’ your dah’tah.. sun… need a rite ‘ome, miss?” muttered the Manchester driver, a rather old, fat man with a bulbous nose.

“No, we’re fine, thank you.” Eileen mumbled, tightening her hold around her son’s hand.

“It’ll be rate. Com’ on.. Yer sun aren’t lokin’ too grate ther, do ye need any tin’?”

This stopped Eileen in her tracks. She turned around and walked back to the car, facing the driver, whose head was stuck out of the driver’s side window. They exchanged a few hushed words, before Eileen turned over to her son, looking resolute.

_Severus, bleib hier draußen. Wenn etwas passiert, gehen Sie zur Polizei. Warte einfach hier._

“Severus, stay out here. If anything happens, go for the police. Just wait here.”

He waited out by the car on the side of the road for almost an hour, plucking strands of grass and counting the stars as he sometimes did with Lily when they were both able to sneak out at night. He heard strange noises coming from the car, but resisted the urge to discover their source. Around an hour passed before his mother emerged from the car, her hair a bit disheveled.

_Es ist in Ordnung, Sev, hüpfe in den Rücken, okay? Dieser Gentleman hier wird uns nach Hause fahren, okay?_

“It’s alright, Sev, hop in the back, okay? This gentleman here is going to give us a ride back home, alright?” his mother said, with desperation in their identical-black eyes.

The man did indeed take them home, with Severus awkwardly sitting in the back. The whole car had a strange scent to it, and he felt very uncomfortable with how this man rested his hand on his mother’s thigh.

They arrived back at Spinner’s End. Tobias Snape was sound asleep, his snores could be heard all the way from the downstairs entrance hall. Eileen hurried over to the kitchen counter, where she dumped a bundle of Muggle cash.

_Wir werden morgen etwas Nettes bekommen, Severus. Und dann vielleicht etwas schönes zum tragen. Sehen Sie, dieser Mann war nicht so schlecht, oder?_

_Erzähl deinem Vater nichts davon. Versprichst du?_

“We’re going to get something nice to eat, tomorrow, Severus. And then maybe something nice to wear. See, that man wasn’t so bad, was he?” she said. “Do not tell your father about this. Do you promise?” She quickly took the money, wrapped it in a plastic bag, and hid it amongst the pipes underneath the sink, a place she thought Tobias would never look.

_Ich verspreche es, Mama._

“I promise, mum.”

He let his mother quietly lead him up to his bedroom, where he changed into his pajamas and let his mother tuck him into bed.

_Du kannst jetzt gehen._

_Ich bin alt genug, um selbst schlafen zu gehen._

“You can go now.” he muttered. “I’m old enough to go to sleep myself.”

_Oh, Severus, du bist nie zu alt._

“Oh, Severus, you’re never too old.” Eileen said, leaning in and kissing him on his cheek.

_Mama..._

“Mum…” he warned.

_Okay, gut. Wir sehen uns morgen, Engel._

“Alright, fine. I’ll see you tomorrow, angel.” Eileen said, giving him one more kiss before heading off to bed with Tobias as silently as possible.

Severus lay there in bed, thinking of this day, of his embarrassment over Lily’s mum not wanting her to spend time with him and his family, of that strange man in the car, of her mother’s now-hidden pile of cash. It was all so confusing for him. He hummed the song Lily had taught him under his breath and looked up at the ceiling, which usually helped him sleep, but he stopped singing immediately when he heard the startled scream of a woman, and then a growl for silence. He froze, almost holding his breath, eyes darting back and forth in the darkness of his room.

“You smell like shite, woman. Take a fookin’ bath.” he heard his father say.

He heard his mother’s steps as she headed into the bathroom, as well as the sound of her turning on the faucet. He listened to the running water, which was almost always freezing cold, and eventually heard heavier footsteps in the hall. He began to panic, and squenched his eyes shut, grasping his covers in his fist. He heard his door squeak open, and tried to relax his body a bit, so as to appear asleep.

He heard those heavy footsteps enter the room, and then he felt the weight of someone taking a heavy seat at the foot of his bed. He felt a hand rest on his shin, just staying there, letting its weight apply all the pressure. The weight was soon lifted off the bed, and Severus felt a cold hand gently caress his cheek, pulling a few strands of his ragged hair out of his face. He fought to keep control of his feigned sleep. Then, he felt it, a quick peck on his cheek.

Tobias Snape had kissed him, the way a father kisses someone who he truly loves, the way he kisses his own child. Severus considered waking up, leaping into his father’s arms, declaring their newfound bond and a new life they would lead together now that things were different. However, a voice in the back of his head reminded him that such things were silly fantasies. His father was likely hungover and having a moment of weakness.

Tobias got up, and walked back into his room, and Severus succumbed to his need for sleep, the door to his room remaining ajar for the rest of the night.

Tobias would later steal the pile of cash, and proceed to get into a bar fight with a random bloke at the local pub who he thought had ‘pimped out his wife’. Eileen had asked him if she could read some of his poetry, and her answer was given in the form of a hard slap across the cheek. Such were things on Spinner’s End.

 

***

 

Severus had quite a gruelling day of teaching students. His migraine was nearly unbearable. He had woken up feeling particularly depressed, maybe more so than usual. He knew this meant that the day would be equally foul. He had a brief exchange with Albany Olivia Newson, an oddball and pest, that morning in the Great Hall after she had made a spectacle of herself again. That Cunningway twat couldn’t keep his grubby fingers off the girl, it seemed, and she wasn’t at all shy about making it known to those around her that she was desired. Such attitudes were a bit of a pet-peeve for Severus, as a matter of fact.

The rest of that Monday was fairly routine. He taught the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor second-years, then the Ravenclaw and Slytherin fourth-years, then had a rather dry, unmemorable lunch alone in his sitting room, and then proceeded to teach the Hufflepuff and Slytherin second-years, and finally, his N.E.W.T. level class. His teaching day ended around five, and then he dedicated his time to brewing for the hospital wing for a few hours, eating another tasteless dinner and then returning to work in his office grading papers and disassociating from his entire day altogether.

When she had come down to his office, as she always did and as he always expected her to, his senses were swarmed with the visual imagery of her most recent exposé: being caught in a rather vulgar act in a broom closet, of all places. It was quite alarming, honestly, the graphic nature of the imagery throwing him a bit off guard. Her mind was always so open and so vulnerable, practically asking to be invaded. Always the strangest things occupied her mind, he found. Although he was typically quite a polite legilimens, he found that he couldn’t quite help himself. He had no idea she had caught on to what he had been doing, and was actually a bit embarrassed given the rather sensitive content of her… discretion.

It was odd that he found himself to be slightly disappointed that he would not be having her company this evening. No students were foolish enough to cross his path and to subsequently have detention with him, of all professors, so he got through his office hours, answering questions for three or four quaking students, before heading into his private chambers to finish off the night alone.

He returned to his sitting room that Monday night and poured himself a glass of whisky. Just one glass, he promised himself. He lay sprawled across his couch, letting the warmth of his flickering green fireplace cast a glow on his sallow complexion, closing his eyes as the throb of his headache was practically audible. He wasn’t even hungover, and yet these damn headaches were relentless. He assumed they were due to stress, but what stressors were even here? He had endured torture at the hands of the Dark Lord, he had seen many slaughtered, he had seen his own mother murdered by his own father, for Christ’s sake. Why was life so unbearable now when it was so painfully safe?

Perhaps it was the uncertainty. Rumours said that the Dark Lord had been spotted somewhere in Romania, or somewhere in eastern Europe. Such thoughts made Severus feel completely ill. Who knows what task Dumbledore would have him undertake. Hogwarts could keep him safe, it had for years, sure, but what was to come once the Potter boy arrived?

Suddenly, he stood up and walked back into his private chambers, reaching into his bedside chamber and pulling out the bottle of Felix Felicis which he had won from Slughorn all those years ago. He never did find a time or a place to use it. _When will I ever use it, anyways?_

He had never trusted himself to have a good day. He didn’t even know what that would look like, feel like, or be like at all. He didn’t even want to give himself that pleasure, he thought that he didn’t deserve it. He had considered regifting it, though he didn’t even have anyone in his life to give it to. Severus Snape was not the kind of man who gave gifts, much less had anyone to give them to. After all, what kind of good luck could he have in a boarding school filled with insufferable children surrounded by stuffy men and women twice his age?

For some reason, there was this itching thought in the back of his mind to give the vial to Albany Olivia Newson, the crazy brat and the bane of his past year of teaching. Why did he feel this way? He had no idea. He didn’t have any use for the damn translucent little bitch of a potion himself, so what was the harm? Was having favorites such a crime?

He was curious as to why he had such an interest in this girl. There indeed was something rather magnetic between the two of them, he couldn’t deny that. He was sure she couldn’t either, after all, he had read her mind and realized that she was rather _intrigued_ by him at the very least. He couldn’t entirely determine in what way, however, though this was more coming from his own lack of social-skills rather than a failure to penetrate her vulnerable mind. Their heart-to-heart was frightening. He had never been honest to anyone about his feelings, much less Dumbledore, and it was utterly terrifying. He wanted to continue to talk to her, to continue to understand what they had revealed to each other... perhaps they could reveal more... No. That was all, he had let her in and he had to keep her away. He needed to keep his guards up, to keep their relationship teacher-student, that was finite.

He suddenly found himself doing math, a skill which, admittedly, wasn’t well-developed due to his enrollment at a wizarding school, after all. His father had actually insisted that he receive a basic Muggle education, and he attended a few years of Muggle school before he decided the whole thing was a waste of time and so he stopped showing up altogether. He had done exceptionally well in math, however. He remembered some things, at least.

She was 15 when he was first forced to be in her presence. No, wait… she was 16. That made her 18 now. She was an adult. It was rare to have real, semi-functioning young adults in his presence, besides his N.E.W.T. level students, who he actually respected for their hard work and dedicated to the subject, although he never would admit it.

_Sev, don’t be a creep. Stop thinking about this._

He sighed, and poured himself another drink, chugging it in mere seconds. He avoided the lurking thought that he was becoming his father. He worried far too much about that. His father, after all, had been ten years older than his mother, and he was wary to ever become…

_Why am I thinking about her in stark comparison to… Sev, get your shit together._

He chugged yet another drink. Then another, before he realized that he had to teach tomorrow. Whatever, he told himself, he could brew a hangover potion to perfection.

 

***

 

Albany thought she was having a dream in which she was walking through a forest, glancing at a shadowy pale figure, with a hairless head, a skull defined by noticeable blue veins... but somehow found herself in Dumbledore’s office, sitting at the desk directly across from the most powerful living wizard of their time. She had only been there once last year when he was checking up on her adjustment to Hogwarts and to the wizarding world at large. What was she doing there now?

“Albany, breathe. Do you know where you are? Do you know what day it is?” It was the calm, soothing voice of Headmaster Dumbledore.

“I… all I remember was detention with Filch. I’m at detention most nights, Professor.” she muttered, her voice choked and raw. She could feel tears staining her cheeks, and her eyelids felt like lead.

“That is all?”

“Yes.” she lied.

“Well, Albany, you were found by Flitwick during his night rounds, and I was promptly summoned. You were in some kind of comatose state. Your eyes had rolled to the back of your head and you were unresponsive. You had stopped breathing. It looked as though you were cursed, and we were initially concerned about the reemergence of black magic use at this school. What, with the eventual return of The Boy Who Lived and countless toils to come… We were concerned.”

“Well, was I cursed? I wouldn’t put it past some people in Slytherin to curse me. How are you not concerned that there are students in Slytherin whose parents are… were... Death Eaters, for Christ’s sake! They’re like… like wizard Nazis!” Albany said, her hair crackling with her magic.

Dumbledore couldn’t help but smile at her Muggle analogy.

“We will make sure you are safe, Miss Newson, given your specific situation within Slytherin House.” he consoled her.

“Well, if I wasn’t cursed, what happened? Why am I here?” she asked.

“We believe this has to do with a Vision you may have had, or will have. We woke up and consulted Trelawney, and she agrees that it is best for you to sit down in a safe space where you can experience whatever you may experience in comfort and peace.” Dumbledore explained.

“Well, what should I do? To be honest, the last thing I remember seeing was a pale figure floating above the crowd like some kind of ghost, but a solid one, right at the Forbidden Forest… Also, what day is it? Don’t I have class?”

“It is Wednesday.” She had missed all of Tuesday. “Don’t worry, you have been excused from your classes. Now, focus. Breathe, center yourself. Speak whenever it suits you.”

“Are you trying to get something out of me, Professor?” Albany asked, frowning. “Is this all because there’s some question out there, some solution that you need?”

“I am interested in your wellbeing, Miss Newson. Now please, sit down.”

“I don’t think you are, quite frankly.” She was losing her temper, again.

“Just. Sit.” Dumbledore said. She couldn’t help but listen to him, plopping down on the chair meant for visitors across his desk.

She closed her eyes and put her hands on her temples. She could feel an awful headache coming on, and moaned, knowing it was going to be a particularly bad one.

“What is it, Miss Newson?”

“A headache.”

“Think about the prophecy you told me about the man from the east and the hydra heads. Picture that, see it in your mind’s eye…”

Albany finally did what she was told.

“This man… he will be here… unassuming… he will be… looking for Him… at the start of my seventh year, Professor. You must tell Severus… Professor Snape... to keep a watchful eye on him when the Boy Who Lived comes to school here. Just keep that in mind, and tell Professor… tell him that he is not what he seems.” Albany was saying desperately, panting and nearly out of breath with the effort that came with uttering each sentence. “ _Adorned in robes of the east, a hydra lives within._ Look, I don’t know what the hell that means, but I’ve told you it before… but there’s more now. _A dance in the skies will be tampered with by uttered words and a verbal brawl between two lost men._ I… I’m sorry…” Albany started to cry, her body shaking, slouching onto one of Dumbledore’s most comfortable office chairs intended for company.

“It is alright, Miss Newson. I appreciate your telling me this.” Dumbledore said, his eyes squinting, analyzing the sight before him.

“Wait…” Albany looked off in the space above Dumbledore’s head, her eyes rolling into the back of her head, her hands gripping the arms of her chair. Dumbledore started up in his seat, preparing himself for anything and everything. “There’s… _Obstacles they face, throwing one amber stone into the Black Lake, the innocents are privy to snakes_ …”

Dumbledore, admittedly, tensed up quite a bit at the mention of ‘snakes’. The implications were abound. Slytherin? Voldemort? Something… more sinister than even that? A combination of the three?

“Oh… _The touch of a child will teach one a lesson and guide another home._ ” Albany’s eyes finally rolled forward, and she collapsed, her forehead sweaty and her eyes glazed over.

“None of that made any fucking sense. Sorry, profanity. I’m sorry… I probably wasted your time…” Albany very slowly got up to leave, very slowly, in fact, as her entire body felt sore, before Dumbledore interrupted her.

“Now where do you think you’re going, Miss Newson?”

“I’ve… I’ve embarrassed myself, Professor. Nothing that intense has ever happened and I must have looked like some kind of…”

“I believe your prophecy is legitimate and I would like you to learn more about your Gift, Miss Newson. Divination has always been a… sensitive… subject for many of us. I understand that you have been quiet in your Divination class with Professor Trelawney, have you not? She has reported to me that you have been awfully quiet all year. Why is that?”

“I don’t want to make a fool of myself.”

“How could you?” Dumbledore inquired.

“I think people don’t take the class very seriously… naturally, they’d pick on anyone who actually did… I sometimes speak to Trelawney after class.”

“Speak to her more. I know she may be… a bit off-putting… but she can teach you many things. She knows you have the Gift. We have spoken about it many times.”

“Really?” Albany asked, a bit surprised.

“Yes. However, there is someone I would like you to meet. Would you come with me, please?” Dumbledore said, standing up.

“Where are we going, Professor?” Albany asked, kind of amazed she was getting all this attention from the school’s all-powerful headmaster.

“We will head out to the Forbidden Forest to speak with an old friend who may have some advice for you.”

“Who is this friend, Professor?”

“His name is Firenze. Sybill, bless her, doesn’t seem to like him very much. I suppose she’s jealous. Personally, I don’t find harm in uniting Seers. However, your kind tend to have quite the ego when your predictions come to pass.”

“That’s understandable. I’ve heard about what happened with Harry Potter, and Sybill’s Prophecy.” Albany said.

Dumbledore froze. They had left his office and were walking down a brightly lit corridor on a nice spring day. However, it felt like all the warmth had left the room.

“What do you know of this prophecy?”

“I know someone relayed it to the Dark Lord, and inadvertently brought him to his demise. How could someone make a mistake so foolish?” Albany muttered.

“How did you know that, Miss Newson?”

“Professor, sometimes I feel like I know everything and nothing all at once. I sometimes can tell what people are thinking, and other times I’m completely oblivious. Sometimes I know what’s to happen and other times everything is a mystery to me. I can’t control it…”

“Yes, but how did you know _that_?” Dumbledore said, his voice conveying the slightest bit of nervous agitation. “I apologize, Miss Newson, but this is rather sensitive information.”

“Oh. I… I had a dream about the Potter family’s death. There was this figure in a robe with his face hidden… though he wasn’t You-Know-Who… he was a messenger… That’s all I remember. It was this messenger figure that stuck out to me, you know? It wasn’t so much the Dark Lord that caught my attention.”

Dumbledore was silent, waving open the door and promptly leading Albany through the corridors and outside the castle. They walked slowly across the green fields until they reached the forest’s edge.

“I’m afraid this is where I’ll drop you off. Miss Newson, please, I implore you to come by my office whenever you have anymore of these… experiences. I wish you well.”

“Thank you, Professor Dumbledore.” she said sincerely, turning back towards the Forbidden Forest, a place where she had only previously gone to to screw her brains out. How times had changed.

Suddenly, she could see a figure deep in the foliage. The figure transformed from an indistinct blur to a glorious centaur, a true sight to behold. He was handsome in both his forms, almost alarmingly so. However, one could easily tell that his mind did not live on the same plane as the human one.

“Firenze. It’s an honor to meet you.” she said, bowing, not knowing exactly what to do.

“Albany, would you care to walk with me?” Firenze said rather stoically.

Albany immediately knew that this was a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. It wasn’t everyday that a literal centaur and brilliant Seer would request your private presence or even wished to console or guide you in any way.

“I would be honored to, sir.” she said. “It’s always an honor to get acquainted with those who aren’t just… wizards… I was fascinated with the merpeople for some time. I’ve always wanted an outsider’s opinion on the wizarding world. I consider my own view to be just that, since everything is so new to me.”

“You feel you are an outsider to your own people, do you, Albany Olivia Newson?” Firenze inquired, his gaze brilliant and unrelenting.

“I’ve always felt that way, even in the Muggle world where I grew up.” She was being honest. It was the raw truth.

“You have been going through much, haven’t you? We should speak of this _hydra_ and this _robed man from the east_.”

“You have seen that vision too? It’s been quite some time since I’ve mentioned it to Dumbledore.”

“He only recently told me that you have had a similar… _bath_ of imagery to wallow in. Most interesting, is it not? Have you made any conclusions?” Firenze’s voice was stern, inhuman, obviously, though subject to trepidation. He clearly wasn’t comfortable fraternizing with humans.

“I… I don’t know what conclusions to make.”

A moment of silence.

“You need to speak with Sybill about this.” Firenze said, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Why is that?” Albany asked meekly.

“She knows why you have been brought here, what your purpose is.”

“I don’t understand…”

“Do you think that Hogwarts is an institution that will take any witch or wizard who demonstrates having magical abilities? There are thousands upon thousands of children out there with magical abilities. Only some are chosen, and they are chosen for a reason, whether it be political, for diversification purposes, or to save them from broken homes. I would have thought you would have been aware of this fact already.” Firenze, like many other centaurs, was not fond of stating the obvious.

“Aside from my ‘blood status’, what else could I have been chosen for?” Albany asked.

“Why do you think it was you were placed into your fourth year, effectively scheduling you to finish school exactly the year before a certain Chosen One?”

“What… so as to avoid him or something?” Albany was shocked. He couldn’t be implying what she thought he was implying…

They had arrived at a strikingly gorgeous grove filled with fluttering fairies, who were actually pests, albeit quite beautiful ones. Firenze beckoned her to sit, and she did so. He sat as well, as best he could, folding his… horse... legs over each other and resting his arms on one of the nearest logs. He was a rather peaceful, delightful scene. She simply had to continue the conversation, however, and not allow her to be distracted by the mystifying allure of the Forbidden Forest.

“Do you mean Harry Potter? What the hell do I have to do with that? What’s so special about him coming to attend Hogwarts? Of course they want him, he’s a famous little kid with an amazing story. Everyone talks about it already. My friends are _sad_ that they’re going to be missing attending school at the same time as him, as though it matters.” Albany began, growing frustrated by Firenze’s expressionless gaze as he remained sprawled out, surprisingly casual around her.

“What do I have to do with The Boy Who Lived?” she shouted, stopping Firenze. He blinked and turned his upper body towards her, giving her his full attention.

“We as Seers should know our place. We are not active participants in the main Act. That would be too dangerous. Our words have power, they have the potential to change events dramatically. Sybill’s prophecy about the Boy Who Lived, the one you can see in your own Mind’s Eye, was overheard, and thus the legend of The Boy Who Lived was born.”

“So my role is to live on the fringes of stories, to keep my place, and to provide great content for my superiors, lest some sneaky messenger get in the way? That’s not much of a life, is it?” Albany said, frowning.

“No. A Seer must be isolated. Friends, family, companions… you must be very selective. It is a Gift, but it is a burden. You must have a strong sense of self to be a Seer. You have the power to control the fate of the world at large.” Firenze said. “It is much easier to live with my people. They are very understanding of me and my abilities. Humans are notoriously discriminatory to those population who are not conventional, whatever that may be.”

“They definitely are. The outcasts… searching for purpose… always serving others, seeking a kind of perverted validation for their…” she began, stopping suddenly. She had it all figured out. The imagery in her mind fit perfectly.

“Oh, fuck.”

“You’ve figured it out, then?”

“Severus fucking Snape.”

 

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That silent film in particular is one I saw with my professor and our class back in the beginning of the year. It was absolutely magnificent. I was totally enraptured by the film, the imagery, and the general otherworldly perception made through the lens of a camera. 
> 
> Here is a link to the film if you're interested: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B3Ci55vUNIQ
> 
> Also, can you tell I love Kate Bush?
> 
> Here are the promised atmospheric tunes.
> 
> 1\. Waking The Witch (Kate Bush): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aJV1AweAEdU
> 
> *Can you tell I love Kate Bush? Fitting for the whole British vibe...
> 
> 2\. Come To Me (Björk): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4WqIZTwjxec
> 
> 3\. Cadaques (Psychic TV): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mjzA3Okv3B0
> 
> SPOTIFY PLAYLIST: https://open.spotify.com/user/mooniemoe/playlist/1BftWaSHedV8PHnvuicKXB?si=LKrxiuVEQ165ytubpi2V2w


	11. The Sea Is A Morgue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albany confronts Severus about his past, a 20-year-old Severus mourns, Albany looks at a rather sensitive student file, Trelawney is condescending, and Severus and Albany have a rather... interesting interaction.
> 
> *Smut abound! Also, some fluff, of course.
> 
> This chapter is pretty intense, definitely not for the weak of heart.

 

***

 

“You! You’re the fucking messenger!” Albany said, blasting open Severus’s office door with a guttural _confringo_ right at the tail end of his office hours one Monday night before attempting to cast a hex whose intention was… mutation? He immediately ceased her spells with a wordless _finite incantatem_. Albany growled in anger, her hair sparkling as though charged with electricity, her knuckles turning white as she clutched her tiny hands into furious fists.

_Where the hell had she learned that hex? Where the hell did she learn that curse?_

“Miss Newson, I order you to put down your wand.” he growled, swishing his own and repairing his office door behind her, clasping down a rather sturdy lock as well as a privacy charm. He didn’t want to make her angrier by disarming her. He knew they were going to need some privacy for whatever this was.

“You! You… you killed James and Lily Potter… by proxy, at least.” Albany cried, her grey eyes filling with tears.

All of the breath left Severus. He actually had to reach out to his desk to briefly regain his balance, before summoning all of his stoic prowess to right himself back up again and brandish his signature sneer.

“I have made many mistakes throughout my life, Miss Newson.” he muttered.

“It’s Albany, for Christ’s sake. And to think I trusted you!”

She began to sob earnestly, and Severus was at a complete loss for what to do. Suddenly, she threw herself at him, and his initial reaction was to draw his wand to defend himself for whatever weak, adolescent knee-reversal hex (or something similar) was to be cast his way.

However, she grasped at his robes and buried her face in his chest, dampening his expensive wool attire with her tears. He wasn’t sure what to do, and was afraid to touch her. He didn’t shove her off of him, however. He didn’t feel that it would be appropriate. He didn’t want to hurt her more. Plus, if she wanted his consolation, why wouldn’t he give it to her? She had already determined his greatest shame. How the hell did she do that? Oh, he should never trust a Seer… or maybe he had trusted them too much?

“Why did you do it? Why did you need His approval?” she said into his robes, suddenly wrapping her pale, freckled arms around his torso and underneath his dramatic black wool outerwear.

“You don’t have to answer. I know it’s… I know it’s hard… I shouldn’t have said that you killed them, Severus. You were ignorant, you were… you were around my age. For fuck’s sake, you were a blithering idiot because you were practically a motherfucking child!” she cried out, tightening her grip around his waist. “They were children too! Children with a baby! Painfully unlucky, young and beautiful! A tabloid’s wet dream...”

Tentatively, he put one hand on her curly locks and the other on her upper back, where he could feel her erratic, shuddering intake of breath through her wrinkled Slytherin robes. He leaned in towards her ear, and whispered, “How did you know about this? Who told you?” He was tempted to _crucio_ the shit out of anyone who told this girl, this student of his who he genuinely admired, that he was some kind of monster. Sure, it was somewhat true, but it was his truth to reveal, and no one else’s. It was a fucking invasion of privacy in his eyes.

“I figured it out. I had a dream about you. Those billowing robes gave it away. I couldn’t see your face. That’s the thing, Severus. I’m cursed by this. I hate it. I need to learn to repress it, to take control of my mind. You mentioned occlumency lessons for the summer, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did.” he said. _Damn, this embrace has gone on for quite a while…_

“Why did you become a Death Eater, Severus?”

He hated this conversation, though he strangely expected that it would happen sometime or other. “I… we can discuss the reasons why another time…”

“Is Dumbledore the one keeping you safe?” she interrupted, asking rather earnestly. Severus looked down at the floor.

“I pledged my loyalty to him, and so in turn he provided me sanctuary and a teaching position. I am at his discretion to do whatever he wants of me.”

Albany stepped away from him and began to pace around his office, frowning as though in deep thought.

“So you’ve traded one master for another?”

“Yes, you can say I have.”

“So things are calm now, then? You know… all hell will break loose once Potter gets here. You’re in danger, and you need to be on your guard.”

“I am already aware of that, Miss Newson.”

“Albany.”

“I don’t think this informality is going to work if we are to continue here. You are my student, and I am your teacher, your superior. Rules and boundaries must be set and established.”

“I thought we were beyond that, Severus.” Albany said, glancing up at him, her lip quivering ever so slightly, as though her feelings had been hurt somewhat.

“We can’t be beyond that if you feel entitled enough to use a rather destructive hex, the likes of which you would have had to sneak into the Restricted Section to even hear of, as well as an even more destructive curse. I will have you know, if you had been foolish enough to use this curse in any part of the castle, in front of any other professor, you would be facing severe consequences.” Severus knew he had to once again assume the role as her superior, otherwise this colloquial exchange would continue. However, she knew this girl’s tone would never change despite his relentless efforts to discipline her.

“I did find a book on original curses and hexes of the 15th century deep in the Restricted Section. I’ve been looking there a lot lately. Even back in the Muggle world, I’ve always been interested in _murder_ and serial killers and stuff like that. I can’t help it, I’m sorry. Feel free to take as many house points off as you want. I honestly can’t even be bothered to care anymore, all the Slytherins except Mpho Oliphant hate me anyways… and maybe Mpho does hate me. After all, I guess he’s probably another blood purist too.” He appreciated her honesty.

“I used to hang out in the Restricted Section. I had learned a rather advanced unlocking charm my third year to break in… I was always fascinated with Dark Magic.” he mumbled, still holding Albany in his arms. They were speaking to one another awfully close, practically breathing into one another’s open mouths. He had never held anyone like this, except for his mother, years and years ago. “Lily wasn’t fond of it.” He had made a mistake.

“Lily Potter?” Albany asked, breaking free of his light hold on her, looking at him with inquisitive grey eyes. Severus panicked.

“Um, yes. We were in school together.” he mumbled, hoping she wouldn’t interrogate him further about Lily.

“You were friends? And you still told the Dark Lord the prophecy, directly implying that He had to kill Lily and her husband… and their one-year-old baby… What the hell was wrong with you?”

“I didn’t think things through. I was impulsive, hoping that I could win His favor. I was desperate, I wanted to ascend the ranks, to prove myself worthy in his eyes. I have done horrible things to prove myself to the Dark Lord. I regret it all.”

“So, you were a child yourself… a fucking dumb one to boot. Severus Snape, you are a mean sonofabitch.” Albany scowled. Severus felt his stomach drop and his heartbeat speed up.

“There is no use for harsh language, Miss Newson…”

“IT’S ALBANY!” she shouted. The vials and jars in Severus’s office began to shake, and he panicked, thinking of all the wasted galleons if this girl were to break any of his beloved pickled animal parts in mason jars. “I trusted you! How are you even allowed to teach at this bloody school! You make everyone’s life miserable here, do you know that? You were a monster… Why the hell are you even allowed to teach here? Why does Dumbledore even protect you, when you’re clearly not worthy of it?”

Severus was silent for a moment. He looked down. He felt his eyes water… wait… were those tears? He hadn’t cried since…

“You’re right, Albany. You’re saying exactly what I have told myself for all these years. You’re practically taking the words right out of head.” he said, turning and walking back to his desk, sitting down and covering his face with his hands. “I am a monster. I know it. I act like a cruel, cold, ugly monster everyday. It is my shield, Albany. It is all I have left. I didn’t even like killing and torture. I refrained from doing it, harming people as little as possible. It was just my father… I had no mercy… I was insane, it was as though I had lost all control over myself. I will never do such a thing again. The Dark Lord will return. There are rumours that he has been spotted in eastern Europe. I don’t want to believe it’s true… but I have my suspicions.”

Albany approached him at his desk, and reached out, putting one small hand on his sharp cheekbone, rubbing it gently with her forefinger.

“What are you doing?” he asked, taking her wrist in his hand but not pushing it away from his face.

She didn’t reply, and instead took his face in both hands and placed a light kiss on each cheek. She looked deep into his obsidian eyes, and he stared back at her. They shared a kind of understanding, a sweet tenderness. Severus felt his heart pounding out of his chest instead of his typical migraine, and decided to bring her in for a hesitant hug, which, in effect, brought her close to him, her knee pressing up against his crotch. He felt something tingle down there, but panicked and thought of Spinner’s End, which had the power to subdue his libido instantly.

She was essentially straddling him, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face into his shoulder-length hair, seemingly not caring about how greasy it was. Their chests were pressed against one another’s. Severus could feel her breasts pressing against his chest, their hearts poundings in-sync. He placed one hand into the small of her back and the other into her wild hair, taking deep breaths and trying to regain his infamous self control.

“Why do you tolerate me?” Albany whispered in his ear.

“I can’t say. Why do you tolerate me?” he replied.

“I can’t say.”

They stayed there in this tender embrace for what felt like an eternity, before Albany got off of him, righted her uniform, gathered up her robe, and turned to him at his office door.

“I’m afraid I have to go to the library and catch up on all the work I missed. I’m… I’m sorry you have had to suffer throughout your life, Severus. I… I wish I could do something for you, but I can’t. I just can’t…”

“You are not at all obliged to help me in any way, Albany.”

“I know that. I do.”

“Then why are you here? What is this?”

“I don’t know, Severus.”

“I don’t need your help. I am an adult. I am ten years older than you. I can take care of myself. I have to.” Severus said. Albany, surprisingly enough, felt a bit hurt.

“You’re right. Fine. I’m just a dumb _child_ , right? I’ll see you tomorrow for detention, Severus. And for class. I’ll try not to blow up my cauldron this time.”

She stormed out, slamming the door behind her. Severus was caught up in a whirlwind of emotions. His head hurt, unable to entirely process what had just happened.

_This was highly inappropriate. I should not have let that happen. What is wrong with you? Why did you let this happen? Why did you let her touch you? Why did you touch her? She will surely tell Dumbledore and then it will be over for me. I’ll be forced to leave the only home I’ve ever known for almost 20 years. Wait…_

He suddenly burst from his seat, rummaged through his drawers in his bedroom, wrenched open his office door, and bolted down the hall, managing to catch Albany.

“Take this…” he said in a gruff, deep tone. Albany looked back at him, eyes blank. He pulled the bottle of Felix Felicis from inside his robes.

She slowly took it, but before she could ask what it was, he had disappeared, and she was left standing on the steps leading out of the dungeons, completely and utterly befuddled by recent events and this sudden bizarre development.

 

***

 

He was a complete mess, an utter embarrassment. There he was, sobbing like some piteous child, pounding his fists and throwing a complete temper tantrum as a 20-year-old man. He was supposed to be an adult, a real person living in the world, independent, free from the oppression of Tobias Snape and the tragedy of Eileen Prince.

He would have to go to Dumbledore. Immediately. He would do anything to make this right, to avenge Lily’s death. Oh, Lily… sweet Lily… she deserved the world, she deserved everything, she deserved nothing but joy and happiness and peace. She did not deserve any of what happened to her. Severus found himself sniffling, snot running from his nose and tears staining his pillow. He had received the news as soon as he had paid a visit to Spinner’s End, planning to destroy the house and join Voldemort in their inevitable conquering of the wizarding world. What use was this grimy little abode of his tormented childhood?

He had delivered the first half of Sybill’s prophecy to the Dark Lord, vowing his unwavering loyalty. Little did he know, the prophecy directly implicated Lily, the love of his life. He had learned this, and panicked, his heart racing. He felt unable to breathe. Immediately, he hurried over to Godric’s Hollow. He was too late. He saw James laying by the stairwell. He felt the slightest bit of pity for him, but then the slightest bit of cruel happiness. Perhaps Lily had survived…

He arrived up the stairs, looking blankly at the smashed portraits on the wall and the disarray. Voldemort had clearly tried to make a mess of their house as a kind of sadistic intimidation tactic. He entered the boy’s room, and he saw her there. It felt as if all the blood had left his body. He scooped her into his arms, and he wailed, and wailed, and wailed… he hardly noticed the crying baby in his crib adjacent to them.

He finally managed to compose himself and get out of his bed. He put on his cloak and apparated to Hogsmeade, walking hurriedly on his way towards Hogwarts. Passerbys looked at him with fear. The news had spread, they knew he was involved. They must have known.

He burst into Dumbledore’s office.

He cried in front of the most powerful wizard in the world.

He pledged his allegiance.

He continued to work at this bloody school.

Dumbledore had forgiven him.

He became Albus’s tool, a cog in his machine, his greater scheme.

Dumbledore had given him his own office, a little waiting room, and a bedroom. The castle and the house elves had made it exactly as he liked it: relatively simple, comfortable, and filled to the brim with as many books as could fit without the room resembling that of a hoarder as it did in Spinner’s End. He felt that he didn’t deserve all this, but enjoyed the simple comforts of having a comfortable sofa in his sitting room, a warm fireplace, and house elves at his beck and call.

He sat on his black leather sofa facing the fire. He drank and drank and drank until he passed out. He didn’t care for anything. He briefly recalled how, before he passed out, he held his wand up to his heart, sitting before his green flickering fireplace. He could have ended it all. A simple, whimsical-sounding Unforgivable Curse could have brought his life to a close.

He couldn’t do it.

He had tried multiple times to off himself, first when he was thirteen and later when he was fifteen, after he had used a slur on his former best friend and truly had no one left.

He had been disgusting. He had spent hours in massive orgies with fellow Death Eaters, even with You-Know-Who getting into the mix. He had watched his fellow Death Eaters mutilate, torment, and torture various witches and wizards and Muggles. They had made fun of the scars on his wrist and forearms, especially the ones of his chest and back from his father, and then the new ones on his back from being used a practice dummy for the use of his own damn spell.

_They took everything from me._

 

***

 

Why did she feel such a surge of anxiety at the prospect of reading Severus’s student file? Was she afraid of what she would find? Would she fantasize about what their dynamic would have been had they attended school at the same time? Could she have… she hated to say it, even to herself… saved him? No, he was not her responsibility, she reminded herself.

She had tucked herself away in between bookshelves, as far away from anyone who could be watching her. She pulled out Severus’s student files from her bag, where it had become crumpled, some papers torn around their edges. She sat down on the floor and placed the student file on her lap, staring at it, not quite mustering up the courage to open it.

Finally, after nearly ten minutes, she opened the file, and was immediately greeted with a picture of an incredibly awkward 18-year-old boy, grasping an advanced potions textbook, shuffling around awkwardly, dark eyes darting back and forth as though anticipating his inevitable flight from the scene once the photograph was finished being taken.

He was incredibly skinny, almost shockingly so, making his cheekbones all the more defined. His hair was slack, quite greasy, with bits of dandruff visible. His lips were thin and cracked. He would bite down on them from time to time. His nose was hooked, crooked and looked as if it had been recently broken. Despite his threadbare clothing, he was wearing a particularly resplendent Slytherin broach on his uniform, made of glittering emerald and immaculate silver. His fingers were long, with dirty fingernails. A tiny bit of his wrist was showing, and Albany was saddened to see raised pink self-harm scars just barely visible on his thin, emaciated wrist.

_He’s experienced nothing but pain… What kind of life like this is worth living?_

She then peeked down to see his O.W.L.s scores, and was, admittedly, quite proud of him. He had earned an obvious O in Potions, an O in Transfiguration, an O in History of Magic, an O in Arithmancy, an O in Muggle Studies, an A in Divination (this made Albany chuckle), an O in Charms, an O in Defense Against the Dark Arts, an O in Astronomy, an E in Flying, an O in Herbology, an E in Care of Magical Creatures, and an O in Study of Ancient Runes. He was one smart student, indeed. He could have very well qualified to become an Auror or work for the Ministry. Of course, given his distaste for almost everything, more or less, his interested in the dark arts and the Dark Lord must have overtaken his life, and his common sense.

 

_Father: Tobias Snape (Muggle). Mother: Eileen Prince (Halfblood)._

 

How were such calculations of blood purity even made? Surely the wizarding race couldn’t continue if it weren’t for intermarriages with Muggles. Albany had read in a History of Magic back in her summer before attending Hogwarts that, for a time, it was illegal for wizards or witches to even marry Muggles. This disgusted her. Everyone should be free to love and marry whomever they choose.

There were statements by professors written in the student file.

 

_“Severus Tobias Snape is an excellent student in Herbology, although it would be wonderful if he were to speak up a bit more during class. He seems rather socially isolated, and it would be beneficial for him if he were to make more friends, even acquaintances.”_

 

_“Severus Tobias Snape is one of the best students in Potions I have ever come across. I am always impressed at his ability to brew almost any potion to absolute perfection. He is, however, prone to isolating himself and does not wish to work with his peers. He also doesn’t seem to like dinner parties or any social events whatsoever. Sometimes he will be rude and/or disrespectful to me or to his fellow students. There are times in class where I will catch him reading a book or, in general, not doing his work. This only happens when he has finished his potion already, which is usually a half-hour before other members of the class. I am honored to commend him as a Potions Master._

 

_“Severus Tobias Snape is a gifted student. He would, however, benefit from focusing on practicing charms rather than hexes while in my class.”_

 

_“Severus Tobias Snape is quite adept at transfiguration. It would benefit him, however, to come to class consistently.”_

 

_“Severus Tobias Snape would benefit if he were to focus less on the dark arts. He is prone to ranting on and on about them, and his behaviour is warranting some concern amongst his peers.”_

 

This was all Albany needed. She slammed the file shut, but thought better of it immediately. She removed the photo of Severus and put it in the inner pocket of her robes. She decided to sneak into Filch’s office and return the file. It was easy enough to distract that dunderhead by warning him that Peeves was just around the corner.

 

***

 

“Professor Trelawney, can I speak with you for a minute?” Albany asked as the students were heading out of the Divination classroom. She decided to follow Dumbledore’s advice to speak with the woman, even if the conversation took a rather awkward turn, as she thought it would.

Admittedly, Albany liked the classroom and liked Trelawney, her eccentric nature reminding her of home and of the strange artists and scholars from Oxford who would pay visits to their home back when her father was employed there. Additionally, the smell of incense made her feel calm, relaxed. Some students gagged the moment they entered the classroom, but Albany took deep, hearty breaths.

“Albany Olivia Newson…” Trelawney uttered, almost out of breath, her glossy eyes exaggerated by her strange magnified spectacles. “I knew you were going to stay after class. I had a vision of it. Oh!” She grabbed one lock of Albany’s hair and flung it about before shuffling to her private quarters, tucked away behind embroidered pillows, returning with a glass of tea. “Come, drink! The tea leaves can tell your future…”

“Oh, thank you, Professor…” Albany said, knowing that tea leaves and their prophecies were complete and utter bullshit.

“Oh, you are a magnetic one, Albany. Not many students have the Gift, and they do waste my time, but no one comes willingly up to my little perch, and I do need the company.”

Albany almost felt bad for his lonely woman.

“Relay to me your prophecy.” Trelawney said, goggling at her through her ridiculous spectacles.

“I will try to remember it.” Albany took a deep breath.

 _“_ _Adorned in robes of the east, a hydra lives within. A dance in the skies will be tampered with by uttered words and a verbal brawl between two lost men. Obstacles they face, throwing one amber stone into the Black Lake, the innocents are privy to snakes… the touch of a child will teach one a lesson and guide another home.”_

Trelawney paused before standing up and gathering up one of her crystal balls, the same one they had used several lessons ago.

“Try this, dear. Let’s see if you can see anything.”

Albany tentatively put her hands on the cool crystal ball, looking deep into the swirling mist inside it, squinting, trying to discern shapes. She could see nothing.

“I’m sorry, Professor. I don’t see anything.” she said.

“Oh, what a pity.” Trelawney said, although Albany could tell she was secretly happy that Albany was unsuccessful. “Perhaps your visions are… a bit less potent than other have come to believe.” Albany frowned. “If you have another experience, do sit in a quiet, preferably dark, place and take deep breaths. It will make your anxieties and visions a bit more bearable. I have been through this many times.”

“Thank you, Professor. I will try this next time, if there is a next time.” she replied, getting up to leave. “I must go to class. Thank you again for your help.” She was trying her hardest to be polite.

“Albany! I have had a vision about you!”

Albany stopped in her tracks.

“Watch for _men_ , stay cautious of them, they are prone to objectification! Boy oh boy, have I learned that through my treacherous divorce…” She looked at the empty tea cup which Albany had quickly gulped down. “The tea leaves agree!”

“I will, Professor. Thank you.” Albany mumbled, before heading down the ladder out of the Divination classroom and making her way to her History of Magic class.

 

***

 

There was a proud, firm knock on his office door. Exceedingly confident, he thought to himself.

“Enter.” he said in his signature snarl.

She was there, opening the door in his office. Space was almost peripheral, something was wrong with the scene, or with its perception. This wasn't quite reality, but it hadn't yet reached the point of becoming a simple stream of consciousness either. Something was different about Albany Olivia Newson. Her hair looked as though it had been styled, taken care of. She had gotten her curls under control. They danced around her face as though brushed by a gentle breeze; perhaps she had taken the time to charm them with a simple spell. She was wearing red lipstick, which she had only done once before. He had taken notice of it as she was sitting in her class, furiously taking notes, trying to prep for her O.W.L.s in his class and praying that she wouldn’t fail. She had made an effort to take care of her appearance, as though putting on some kind of a show. But why?

“I need to speak with you.” she said, assuming a tone she had never assumed before, at least not in his presence. With Jonas Cunningway, perhaps. Possibly. Their excessive snogging in public was certainly quite obnoxious. Most of the student body and faculty would adamantly agree.

There was still a nervous, anxious energy to his stance, her behaviour. It looked as though she was trying to make herself an actress, a performer in some grand scheme that she had in her head, whatever it was. Severus has some suspicions as to what she had in store, but he decided firmly early on to not act, to not participate. Who knew if he could keep his composure. He had been tested lately.

“Yes, Miss Newson?” he asked, fighting for his composure, making sure to not let his eyes drift on her body, letting his eyes bore into hers, feigning disinterest. His heartache felt as though it had doubled, his headache had disappeared entirely.

“Albany.” she said calmly, maintaining a kind of level-headedness that was very unlike her. He wondered if this could be her, or was it a projection of what his subconscious wanted to see out of an attractive woman with an obvious interest in him in some ambiguous way. Perhaps she was an incantation, a hallucination, a fantasy.

“Of course, Albany.” This had become a little game they would play.

They were always toying with formalities. He secretly enjoyed it, though he would never tell her. He had told her too much. She knew more about his condition than even Dumbledore, who had, for a period, acted as his stern therapist, despite the fact that Dumbledore only had the capacity to think of himself and bettering the wizarding world at large. He cared little for petty interactions or to emotional wellbeing. Few would be willing to critique the accomplished headmaster of one of the best wizarding schools in the world, but he was Severus Snape, and was a highly opinionated pessimistic man. It was his natural proclivity showing through.

“How can I help you?” he asked, resting his sallow cheek in his hand, letting his body become slack and comfortable. He felt a sudden surge of control, and, being power-hungry ever since he was a teenager, he felt the manic impulses sink deep into his bloodstream, into the core of his worldly-perception. He now saw her as something to control, although he knew that it was morally wrong. Who cared about morals anyway in a dreamscape? 

However, she broke his subliminal state of rage and frustration.

“I need you to remember something.” Her voice was urgent, her eyes were pleading

“What is it, Albany?" He spoke softly, as though he were speaking to a small and frightened kitten or young child. He never assumed this tone. It would crack his steely demeanor, exposing weakness. He shuddered.

“I need you to remember me. In whatever capacity. Can you promise me that?” 

_Why wouldn't I remember her? She has left a branded stamp on my mind. I have been forced to be with her, I have endured her follies, I have consoled her. I have held her, I have smelled her, I have had her body pressed against mine. I see her for who she is, I can look deep within her heart and mind. She is talented, she is powerful, she is charming, she is lovely, she is... beautiful. I'll never let myself tell her that. Severus Snape, you piteous bastard, you are nothing but a sick piece of meat, demanding sympathy but rejecting it all. You are a dichotomy, you are a burden for everyone around you. Your mother knew that, your father knew that. You are controlling the narrative... No. She is controlling you. Seers have that power, they have the control. They determine fates, they cause shifts in events, they don't participate in the grand scheme. What is she doing with me, to me? Shut the fuck up, Severus. Get your mind and your fucking cock under control._

“You know I am far too _good_ at keeping promises, Albany.” He told the truth. He was, he had kept his mouth shut for Dumbledore for years. He was  _terrified_ of what was to come when the Potter boy arrived. He was already resentful of the little brat, the spawn of his mortal enemy. The spawn of the woman who was stolen from him. 

_Let me have a woman... Let me have someone... To soothe my capricious moods, the burden I am, to hold me, to have a motherly touch, to kiss my head as she did, to dream of marriage and... Severus. Stop being a sentimental twat. You will never be married, you will never find love. You will die alone._

“I know that you are good at keeping promises, Severus.” she said, approaching him, passion and fire in her stormy eyes. He knew that there would be an inevitable sexual confrontation, though he did not find himself resisting as he knew he should. He was embracing it, he was anticipating it. He became incredibly aroused.

She was removing her outer robe as he looked on with wonder, tossing it onto the chair across from him as she approached him, touching her pale neck with one hand, taking her Slytherin tie and wrapping it around his neck, licking his adam’s apple and biting down gently, just as that foolish Gryffindor had done which had left her in disarray all those months back in his classroom. Her teeth were gentle, they were reverent, they were filled with understanding. She was tasting him out of curiosity, and there was practically a heartbeat forming in his abdomen. It was developed on a musical crescendo, and he could feel his eyes watering.

She smelled like vanilla and burning wood, her hair tickling his neck and cheek. It was as though every sensation, every slight movement or touch, was amplified to such a degree that it was almost all too much to bear.

“Albany…” he whispered.

“Please. I want to. Do you?”

He didn’t answer. He was afraid to. Would he be a disappointment? What did she want from this interaction?

“I… I do… but it can’t…” He had to regain control of his body, spirit, and mind. She was stealing it all from him, wielding him, torturing him. He was more aroused than he had ever been in his entire life.

“I won’t, then. I’ll go.” she said, a frown on her pretty face, looking entirely dejected and disappointed. She started to grab her cloak and walk out of the room, before he grabbed her wrist, his grip stern, demanding. He was commanding her attention, he was fighting for her obedience. He wanted to bend her to his wishes.

“I changed my mind.” he said, almost in a growl.

His cock was rising slowly, as though relishing in the climax and suspension of the interaction, tenting his black starched pants lined with many buttons, and he found himself adjusting his robes and his hands to hide this shameful physiological response to her caresses. He wasn't quite ready for her to know how he was completely tearing him apart. Her eyes met his, locked in an almost aggressive, violent gaze, knowing exactly what he was doing.

Slowly, she moved aside his robes rested her hand on his bulge, and he felt himself moan slightly in his signature drone, commanding shudders across her skin. He found himself fascinated with her nose, brushed with freckles from her time out in the Scotland woods, taking in all the precious light she could. She tightened her grip, and a shameful groan escaped his lips. He felt everything and nothing, he could practically see spots. She smiled coyly with all the power and grace of a woman coming to grips with her allure and with her ability to wield a man's affections, targeting lust and prying it, manipulating it. She leaned down towards him, breathing deeply into his mouth, asking him silently a most frightening question.

They would not kiss, no. Severus had never kissed anyone before. To him, kissing was a proclamation of true love, of meaningful intimacy.

_This cannot not be meaningful... Severus, don't let this happen._

He could only ever imagine himself kissing Lily. This was so much far too fast. He could enjoy her, however, in his unusual way. He could use her, as he had done with so many Death Eater women, Muggle whores, the occasional lost twink.

“Can I touch you?” he asked her, thinking it best to receive her consent first.

“Yes.” she moaned, her lips just grazing his. He shuddered. She sat on his desk and spread her legs wide, her semi-transluscent black tights revealing a pair of purple panties, which were almost comically childish. He felt slightly turned off, but he was in too deep to stop now.

He placed his experienced fingers against her cunt through her panties, moving his long fingers slowly upwards to remove her tights, which he tore down quickly like a man possessed before bending over and unbuckling her shoes so he could remove her tights all the way. He patiently, carefully, unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor. He wasn’t entirely cognizant as to what he was doing, but he proceeded away, as though he had lost all control. She was in charge. She was undoing him, unraveling him. 

_If anything, she is taking advantage of me._

She pulled at her tie which was still wrapped around Severus’s neck, asphyxiating him slightly, unbuttoning the white button-up that was part of her uniform, revealing her bare breasts to him. They were full, maintaining a perkiness, set a bit apart though pressed together by her arms. He wanted to put his hands all over them, to press his cheek against them, to suck on them as though they were a source of life. She didn’t seem to be even remotely interested in wearing a bra, he noticed. He actually found himself admiring this. All the easier for him, then. Daring for her, he observed, though she was likely judged for it by her peers.

He ran his hands up her thighs, knowing full well that this frightened her, but excited her, given how incredibly wet she was. He could see her arousal soaked through her white and blue stripped panties, dripping slightly down her open thighs. He took a moment to soak her in, to relish her, to observe her body and to cement it into his memory, to burn it on his own consciousness to be summoned later when he really needed a wank. She had a few stretch marks across her hips and her rounded breasts topped with those light pink nipples, which were slighter larger than usual, likely from her body having so suddenly filled out after developing.

“I want to love you. I know that no one has loved you before.” she said, her voice soft, almost maternal. She was passionate, she looked like she was on the brink of crying. She reached out her hands and touched his face before uttering a prayer under her breath. "I used to go to Church. My mother grew up in the South and always cared about spirituality. The Anglican Church was not hospitable. I said a prayer for you. I thought you'd like to know that."

“I am not your responsibility, Albany. I am responsible for myself.” he replied.

“You think I’m just a silly schoolgirl.” she mumbled.

“As a matter of fact, I am trying my best to not think of you as a schoolgirl, much less as one of my students.” he said matter-of-factly.

“You see me as an adult then? As a woman?”

“Yes, I do.”

He took her breasts in his hand, pinching her nipples, relishing in the heat and weight of her them. She groaned, stretching her head back, her eyes closed, arching her back so that he could more easily reach them. He closed his eyes and breathed, taking a deep breath through the nose that he had been mocked for for years and out his mouth, squeezing her ripe tits and relishing in the blissful dichotomy of their softness and firmness.

“Severus…” she moaned, opening her eyes and staring directly into his. “I want to see what you’ve done, where you’ve been, who you’ve seen… I know you are scared.” she said, moaning as he squeezed her breasts again, even tighter this time, before grabbing her by the waist and jerking her chest at level with his head, bordering on aggressively. He took her left nipple into his mouth, tenderly sucking and biting ever so gently, relishing her, careful to avoid using his teeth. He placed his free hand on her clit through her panties and began to circle his fingers rapidly, just as Lucius had taught him how to do all those years ago. He wanted to pleasure her.

“Severus, please, oh…” she moaned again, arching her back towards him even more as he pulled her incredibly close, her cunt grinding on his erection through his pants.

“I think we’ve established that you will not like what you see if you are to penetrate my mind.” he said after finally pulling away from her nipple. “I am not a good man.”

“Then why is that I am in love with you?”

He froze. No one, absolutely no one, had ever been ‘in love’ with him.

_You've let her in too far._

"You cannot love me."

"I do! Oh, God... I'm an idiot."

"No, you're not!" he said, wrenching her body upwards, taking her other breast in his mouth, relishing her sensitive nipple and circling the mound with his tongue. He didn't hesitate to use teeth this time, but she wasn't complaining. He eventually withdrew and looked deep into her eyes and mind.

“I will let you in, Albany. Please… don’t leave me, don’t run away after you see what you’ll see.” he said desperately, bringing her in closer, breathing in her scent, putting one hand around her lush bum, squeezing it slightly, dipping underneath her underwear, drawing another moan out of her.

“Severus… after all this time… I’m brave. I can handle it. I've seen terrible things. I've murdered. I am a monster too.”

"Brace yourself, Albany."

He opened his mind, for the first time in years, ever since he first learned occlumency when he was a teenager. He let her in. He could feel that trickling sensation of cerebral invasion, and breathed deeply through it, in through the nose and out through the mouth. She held onto him tighter, lifting herself up from his shoulder, looking at him straight in the eyes, looking deep into his past, bathing in the visual imagery of it all. Her body began to shake and tremble. The air of his office had become frigid, and this girl before him was practically half-naked.

“Lily Evans. You loved her. You loved her more than you have ever loved anyone.” she said, tears welling up in her eyes. Severus panicked briefly, wondering if this could be a sign of jealousy. He would be proved wrong. “That is beautiful, Severus. I am so happy your life has not been incessant despair and torment and torture. Sure, she chose someone else… but you _loved_ , Severus. You have the capacity to love.”

"I haven't loved since she died."

"You can change.

"No."

"You have to make an effort to change. You can't just live on like this. Change when you are with me, start with baby steps. Can we make that arrangement?"

"Alright. We can try."

"You can love, Severus. I admire you."

_You’re right. How… how did you discern such a thing? I... I have loved... it has brought me nothing but pain. You have never looked into my mind before. I am one of the most renowned occlumens in the wizarding world, and yet look at what you’ve done. My mother. Lily. I have had no one else. Only... women. Women of all sorts, kind women who surrender themselves to men. Don't surrender to me, I can't let this happen all over again._

He was in a state of shock.

“I can tell that life has not been kind to you. Oh, she did love you, _Severus_ , but there was nothing you could do when she… she vanished from your life… it was all so sudden... I see blank spots in your memory, places where you have chosen to forget and to repress. You have been through so much torture, Severus.”

“How can you ever forgive me for what I’ve done?”

“You’ve let me in, love. I can see it. Oh, you’re in trouble Severus. He’s… He’s going to come back.” Albany leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on his lips, before bringing her mouth back to him.

He parted his lips, granting her entrance. Their tongues circled one another’s gently, with soft reverence. They tasted one another’s mouths, they breathed in each other’s breath and air, truly believing, in this moment, that there was a dire need to do, to possess, to promise to each other that life was much more than whatever harsh reality the two had been leading. She bit his lip, their teeth clashed, they ran their fingers ravenously through one another’s hair. Eventually, Albany withdrew from the kiss quite suddenly, leaving Severus’s mouth reaching at nothing. He opened his dark eyes. She could tell that his pupils were blown, even though they were difficult to discern in the black murky lake of his penetrating and typically cold and cruel vision.

She looked into those obsidian eyes and grabbed his face, running her soft hands over his porcelain cheekbones. She began to tear up, and soon a few streaks of tears fell down her face, staining her slightly tanned cheeks and smudging her concealer, leaving dripping streaks of mascara down her face. She looked tender. Severus thought she never looked more beautiful in the dim light of the dungeons.

“There is a future for you, Severus. Survive. You must. Don’t let him kill you. You will want to die, you will want to be a martyr. Survive. Escape. Please.” She removed herself from his lap where she had been straddling him, and stared at him, waiting for a response to her request, or demand, rather.

“I will try my best.” he replied awkwardly, a bit taken aback by this statement, looking down at his lap. His erection wasn't going away, unfortunately. Now was not the time and place for it, when revealing secrets and volatile emotions.

“That isn’t a suitable answer. Promise.” Her eyes were stern, storm-grey and full of longing.

“I have made many Vows, Albany. I cannot make any more.”

Albany began to cry, and he took her again in his arms, sitting her back down on his lap where they just held each other, as though it was the two of them against this fucked up world they found themselves in.

The office began to fade, taking on new shapes and colors. It was almost as though the whole interaction had simply been... another silly wet dream. Or had it been real? It was all too foggy to tell, much like looking at a memory through a pensieve.

 

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time there's smut. Listen, I honestly can't express my own sexuality in pure fantasies that are nothing but positive. As someone who has dealt with sexual assault bordering on rape, things just don't work out that way for me. Sure, there is eroticism and there are those tingles, but in no way could I ever see such a dynamic being a positive one with true mutuality. I do not write this kind of stuff for some sort of fetishistic purposes, I write it because I want to explore more of the dynamics of attraction from damaged individuals and how that subsequently shapes their perception of events and of themselves and others. I consider this to be more of an intellectual experiment. Thusly, sex is pretty intellectual, if you... think about it... That was sort of a joke, but a bad one, of course.
> 
> Per usual, here is some music.
> 
> 1\. Tarkovsky (The Second Stop Is Jupiter) (Patti Smith): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A5tcP-g5Qo4
> 
> The lyrics I find very reverberate and relevant...
> 
> "The eternal sun runs to the mother  
> She smoothes his brow and bids him  
> Drink from her well of hammered mist  
> Come along sweet lad,  
> fog rises from the ground  
> The falling soot is just the dust of a shivering gem  
> The black moon shines on a lake  
> White as a hand in the dark  
> She lifts the lamp to see his face  
> The silver ladle of his throat  
> The boy  
> the beast  
> and the butterfly  
> The sea is a morgue,  
> the needle and the gun  
> These things float in blood  
> that has no name  
> The telegraph poles are crosses on the line  
> Rusted pins not enough saviors to hang  
> She blesses the road the noose of vine  
> And waits beneath the triangle  
> Formed by Mercury,  
> an evening star  
> The fifth planet with its blistering sore  
> And the soaring eagle above and to the west  
> The boy  
> the beast  
> and the butterfly  
> She walks across a bridge of magpies  
> Her hollow tongue fills the brightness  
> With water and in the wink of an eye  
> One planet with a glittering womb  
> One white crow one diamond head  
> Big as a world big as a world  
> Don't forget how I played with you  
> She cries and kissed away your tears  
> The white mouth of the sun smiles  
> On his beautiful tongue the seed of flight"
> 
> 2\. Never Had No One Ever (The Smiths): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sBUXPT5ObbQ
> 
> 3\. What You've Done (Fleece): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xUzXw73MmUw
> 
> 4\. Lover, You Should've Come Over (Jeff Buckley): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hXe1jpHPnUs
> 
> 5\. Wish You Were Here (Pink Floyd): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IXdNnw99-Ic
> 
> SPOTIFY PLAYLIST: https://open.spotify.com/user/mooniemoe/playlist/1BftWaSHedV8PHnvuicKXB?si=LKrxiuVEQ165ytubpi2V2w


	12. A Four Chambered Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albany and Severus cope with a rather alarming dream, Albany deals with her Gryffindor beau and some jealous peers, Severus loses his cool in class, and Fae has a audacity to go through her roommate's... undergarment drawer.
> 
> *SMUT! SMUT! SMUT! (but nothing too crazy... I promise)

 

***

 

Albany woke up with a gasp, shocked at how wet she was, praying to God that she hadn’t been moaning in her sleep and giving Fae a real run for her money. This concern was soon addressed.

“You’re the horniest girl I’ve ever met.” Fae said, looking back at Albany in her bed over her shoulder, chuckling while sitting at her vanity, putting on her usual heavy makeup and preparing for a day of classes. Albany blushed to the moon and back.

“You were making all these noises and squirming around… like geez. Don’t you get regular cock, anyways? What do you even have left to wish for?”

Albany blushed again, and tentatively got out of the bed and hurried to her wardrobe to change into her uniform, making sure to hide the soiled panties she had slept in the night before. She’d… figure out what to do with those later. She brushed her long hair and pinned it back into a tight bun. She had no desire to let anything get in her way today, much less her troublesome riot of curls. She stood in front of the mirror for a moment, before she rummaged through her messy tabletop and found the tube of red lipstick her mother had given her for her last birthday. She leaned towards the mirror, slowly and calculatingly, and put it on, such as she had been wearing it in her dream. She didn’t know why she felt an urge to. Perhaps she just wanted to feel sexy, powerful, even. If she were any younger the professors would punish her for putting on such a garish display, but, for the most part, this didn’t seem to be one of the major concerns amongst Albany’s history of problematic behaviour.

She was studying for her O.W.L.s and was hoping to do well in some of her favorite subjects, including Divination, Herbology, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Care of Magical Creatures with Kettleburn, a class she had recently come to adore ever since she had gotten over her fear of pixies after one bit her finger last year. She wasn’t afraid of them, but she definitely still hated them. It was a nice class given that she had always been able to speak with animals since she was young, and was adept at calming any frightened or uncontrollable creature. Kettleburn also liked her very, very much. She too loved that eccentric old man. This also led to many nights hanging out with Andrea in Hagrid’s cabin, talking about everything and nothing, playing with Fang, letting him lick and drool all over these faces without shame, even though Andrea was horribly allergic.

In her Defence Against the Dark Arts Class, they had been learning how to cast a patronus, and she had been entirely unable to. She simply couldn’t put her finger on a truly happy memory of hers. The world was overwhelmingly dark at the present time… she almost didn’t want to know what creature her patronus manifested itself as. She practiced, practiced, practiced… only a few pathetic blue sparks would emerge from the tip of her wand.

She had actually spent quite a bit of time catching up with her Potions work the past few weeks before her strange dream, hoping to at least earn an A in the class. Her time in detention definitely helped, and she was eventually allowed to brew very simple remedial potions to help stock the hospital wards. Apparently her work was “not completely terrible”, and she felt quite proud. She shuddered thinking about her class for the day and her detention that evening, much less seeing him around the halls.

Flying… she had given up with all that. Arithmancy? Astronomy? Forget about it.

There was a sudden ominous silence in the room, and Albany turned over to Fae to see her glaring at her.

“What?” Albany asked.

“You know, my mother found out that I’m rooming with a mudblood, and it’s the second year I’ve been doing it.” she responded matter-of-factly. There wasn’t so much malice in her eyes. It seemed that she wanted to tell Albany, as though she thought it would be good for her to know.

“Fae, we’ve talked about this, please don’t call me _that_.”

“Sorry. Well, my mother found out. And she’s not happy. She wants to get in contact with Dumbledore to discuss the matter. I thought I should be the one to tell you.”

Albany felt a sudden tidal wave of fury consume her. Strands out hair fought their way out of the bun at the top of her head, and her fists clenched. She stood up and glared at Fae, her eyes completely wild and uninhibited.

“You can tell your fucking Death Eater parents that they can go shove it up their ass! They. Are. Monsters. What, do they want me dead? Do they want me kicked out of Slytherin? Out of Hogwarts? Am I that much of a disgrace, that, without even knowing me, my fucking Muggle family makes my life deserving of death? Do I deserve that, Fae? Do I?”

Fae stood up, grabbing her wand which had been laying on her desk adjacent to her numerous makeup products. “Don’t. You. Dare…”

“Don’t I what?”

“Don’t talk about my family in that way. I’ll make you pay for this, oh, you’ll see.”

“Are you threatening me, Fae? I swear… if you ever try to mess with me or my friends, I will hex the absolute shite out of you. I’ve had enough of this with you.” Albany huffed, grabbing her school bag, putting on her shoes, and hurrying out into the Common Room.

“Fuck you, Albany! I hope you know that all of Slytherin hates your guts!” Fae said, running after her into the Common Room.

This made the atmosphere of the Common Room almost painfully awkward to see this fight take place, as several students preparing for classes began to watch the scene unfolding in front of them.

Fae followed close behind Albany as she ran, grasping her wand inside the pocket of her robes, so incredibly close to dueling Albany then and there, in front of prefects and even the Head of House, if things came to that. Fae had always wanted to show Snape her abilities. Knowing of his former friendship with her father, however, made her a bit nervous.

Damn, that man’s voice made Fae hot.

“I hope you know that no one likes you…” she began, before Albany cut her off, pivoting on her heels in the hallway.

“People DO like me, as a matter of fact. I have friends, and a handsome _boyfriend_ , and what do you have? You have messy snogging and a need to kiss ass to prefects who are leagues out of your league! Now fuck off, before I use more than simple little charms to kick your arse like I did last time.” Albany spat, before hightailing it out of the dungeons to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Fae could feel tears welling up in her eyes, but stormed back into the Slytherin Common Room. She collapsed on one of the sofas, and buried her face into the green suede pillow, sobbing hysterically and with abandon. She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Jax,” she said, out of breath. “Thank you.”

“What’s wrong?” Jaxton said, sitting down next to her, his hand staying on her shoulder.

“Albany. She’s such a bitch.” Fae murmured, wiping tears from her eyes.

“What did she do this time?” Jaxton sighed.

“She… she told me that my parents are monsters… that no one likes me…” she mumbled, her lip quivering, fighting back another surge of tears.

Jaxton was silent for a moment, as though considering something. “You know, our parents didn’t have the wrong idea.” he whispered, eyes darting back and forth, knowing that this wasn’t an opinion to say too loudly in this school, even in a Common Room where this sentiment was strongly upheld even after the Dark Lord’s demise.

“They didn’t?”

“Oh, Fae… they knew what was wrong in the world, they knew who needed to be eradicated. It’s just survival of the fittest. The purebloods and their selected sympathizers are the only ones who deserve to live and rule in this muddied world. I should know all about this. My parents... they come from a long line of witches and wizards and practitioners of magic, who were enslaved to work on sugar cane plantations under the control of French Muggle monsters. The term 'zombie' was no lie, they were raising from the dead in the hundred-fold. We were oppressed, brutalized, enslaved, and beaten by Muggles and their cruel innovations. Little did they know, we had the upper hand in torture, in culture, in tongue, in purpose. We wizards have to come together, to make sacred Vows, to pledge our allegiance and pledge the destruction of the Muggle world and of _mudbloods_. Then we will make everything right again.” he said, smoothly and calculatingly, his deep eyes sparkling, brimming with passion.

Fae felt her abdomen begin to tingle as she found herself lost in his face, taking in his pursued full lips, which were slightly chapped, his chiseled jaw, his dreadlocks which he allowed to grow long and frame his handsome face. He noticed how long they had been staring at each other and blushed, looking away.

“You know, your father used to come by my house when I was little.” Fae said, with a smile.

“And yours used to come to mine.” Jaxton said, with a warm smile.

Fae and Jaxton both felt the sudden urge to kiss, but restrained themselves from doing so.

“Don’t let Albany get to you. She’s a Muggle-Born, obviously she’s going to be silly in most matters. They don’t understand much about our world.” he assured her.

“Thank you, Jaxton. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Now, clean yourself up, and let’s go to the Great Hall.” he said, offering her his arm to help her rise from the green suede couch. The two looked at the portrait of Salazar Slytherin, who raised one eyebrow at them.

“I do enjoy seeing my Slytherins working together.” Salazar said to them, bowing his head and flailing his green cape around dramatically. “Though I would refrain from encouraging aggression within the house itself. She may not be… pure… but she is still a Slytherin. We have to stick together, you know.”

“We’re talking about the slutty mudblood, aren’t we?” Bryce said, just entering the Common Room from his dormitory.

“No need for the vulgarities, Mister Razget.” Salazar mumbled. Clearly he did not take a liking to this young snake in particular.

“We get it, Bryce, you’re horny as hell for her but you can’t cope with your internalized shame. We get it, already.” Barnaby Lee said, also emerging from his dormitory. Mpho, Barnaby’s meek roommate, also appeared, practically hiding behind Barnaby’s shadow.

“I AM NOT!” Bryce shouted. “I’d only fuck her out of spite.”

“You hold your tongue!” Barnaby shouted, clenching his hands into fists. “You’re going to do nothing of the sort. She is a _person_ after all, Bryce. Leave her alone. Can we change the subject already? Can we stop obsessing over this girl?”

“She’s not even worth it.” Fae mumbled, picking up her school bag and tossing it over her shoulder.

“Fae! Let me come with you to breakfast!” Jaxton shouted, hurrying after her and offering to carry her bookbag. She blushed, and handed it to him. He was rather surprised with how heavy it was. She decided to let in this cute bloke on her plans.

Fae planned to go into the Restricted Section after classes, where she and several friends had been sneaking off to past curfew, around the time that Madam Pince would all asleep, where the obnoxious little witch would be snoring loudly at her desk.

Fae was learning all about the spells that her father would practice, and indeed, they were quite fascinating. They were a bit scary, she admitted to herself. They had so much power. It always amazed her how much power one witch or wizard may have, if they weren’t held back by all these damn _rules_. What harm could it be if she tried a few out? She just had to make sure she wouldn’t get caught. Plus, Albany was sure to put up a fight if they were to have another formal duel. It would certainly make things interesting to see if her power had increased since their last duel, which had been ultimately humiliating for Fae. She cringed just to think about it.

 

***

 

Severus woke up to see that he had soiled himself. He hadn’t had a wet dream since he was in his early twenties… and even those were less Freudian and shameful. He began to panic, realizing that this girl knew far more than he had ever expected, than he could have ever known. He also felt disgusted with himself, being interested in this girl… she was a woman, really. She was 18-years-old, for Christ’s sake! That still didn’t make things right, he thought.

Regardless, he was still a repulsive pervert, nothing more. Lily could tell, she could see his baseless, consuming desire for her. He pushed her away. Yet, this schoolgirl… woman... somewhat penetrated this mind, reminded him of the dark secrets he was keeping inside of him as he worked as potions professor in the institution where he had been constantly ridiculed and made to feel like a complete and total outsider.

He had been contemplating his death with growing intention lately, his thoughts of self-harm growing and growing, boiling inside of him. It had been years since he cut himself, muttering a delicate form of _sectumsempra_ , his own little secret, his own twisted spell, while gazing in the cracked mirror his mother had owned during her own time at Hogwarts, watching as the blood would flow from his arms, legs, belly, and chest. He would sometimes cry, even, though he would never let anyone see his tears. He hated this piteous, weak little creature that he would become whenever he succumbed to his emotions. Therefore, anyone showing signs of weakness were privy to his harsh words and his cruelty.

He got up, cleaned himself and his bed with a simple charm, and headed to his shower, where he aggressively washed his hair and got dressed silently, buttoning up his attire without the use of magic, as always. The ritualistic nature of this part of his routine was a calming way to start the day, he thought. He put on his cloak, quickly brushed his teeth, and started out the door before he had a rather strange passing thought. He walked back into his bedroom where he rummaged through his drawers.

_For fuck’s sake._

He had given the bottle of Felix Felicis, the one he had one from Slughorn his 7th year at Hogwarts, away to an insolent pretty little pest who he, a man nearly thirty years old, had a wet dream about.

“You’re a bloody fool.” he said, out loud, entirely to himself.

This made him all the angrier, thinking of how he had been so pitiful, so vulnerable, so weak to her advances in a dream, and in real life too, he noted. His defenses were down, he had been so stupid, he had been so defenseless to whatever psychological musings she had in store for him. The fact that he had opened up his infamously closed mind, even if it was just a dream, was legitimately terrifying. He was practically begging for death, then. What use is there in living when he has seen… so much terror?

He stomped off to the Great Hall, ate his meal with furious bites, looking nowhere but at his plate, scowling with such ferocity that the professors sitting on either side of him legitimately scooted away to get some distance. That blasted Rakepick woman, who was currently sitting pretty in HIS job, attempted casual conversation about the cursed vaults, and he knew better than to even ruminate on the stupidity and mundanity of his life as an accessory to the adventures and trysts of other. Finding tons of miserable little brats sleepwalking into a forest was yet another event in a long series of meaningless acts, trapped in a job he hated with menial pay, though with decent enough benefits.

When he had finished his tasteless meal, he swarmed out of the Great Hall, feeling tempted to literally shove first and second years out of his way while doing so. He made his way down to the potions classroom, where he began sorting ingredients and making necessary preparations for his class of first year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. Two insufferable houses. He thought Ravenclaws were tolerable, a bit heady. Slytherins were… he couldn’t say what they were, what with this Albany girl… Stop.

The filthy little brats filed into class. He began the lecture, and found that his voice felt like gravel, his eyes were bloodshot and menacing. The _tots_ were staring at him with abject terror, and he enjoyed this little sadistic power trip. This power balance was only found amongst the first and second years, and, although he wanted to strangle most of the twats, he did take pleasure in being feared, even if it was by a bunch of anthropomorphized animal crackers of juvenile witches and wizards. He told them to head to their work stations, where he would watch them try, and usually fail, to brew a Cure for Boils.

Immediately, a silly little Gryffindor blew up the cauldron after adding the first ingredient. Severus swept towards the boy, and snarled in his face, reprimanding him for his stupidity and taking 10 points from Gryffindor.

“Professor?” A tiny little Hufflepuff hand was raised in the air. “How much flobberworm mucus do we need to put into the mixture after we had the crushed snake fangs? My sister, she says that it’s better if you use horned slugs instead of flobberworm mucus, she gave me this advice and all… What do you think, Professor?”

Severus advanced on the 11-year-old and gave her his most intimidating stare coupled with a nasty curled snarl on his lips. “Your sister, Miss Haywood, is a bloody know-it-all who I have to entertain due to her excessive amounts of _enthusiasm_. You may try to use her in your favour, but know for certain that you will prove to me your capabilities in potions by doing well independently and not brown-nosing a professor who doesn’t care much for insufferable twits like you, especially when they bother him. Am I understood, Miss Haywood? Or must I repeat myself to better ingrain this lesson within your ditzy Hufflepuff head?” He had gone a bit too far with that one.

The girl’s lip quivered, and she looked down at her lap. He had elicited this same response from practically hundreds of students over the years, and inevitably more in the future. Her friend put out her hand and gave Beatrice’s arm a squeeze, and Beatrice looked over at her with saucer-like eyes.

Severus stalked back to his place at the front of the class and heard the miserable sobs of that 11-year-old he had just likely scarred for life. Or not. Who knows. Who cares. He could hear Percy Weasley whisper to her, “It’s okay, Beatrice. Just follow the steps. Just stick to the rules.”

The class ended, and, strangely enough, he felt the slightest bit of regret at his treatment of the dumb little first year. He supposed that this was because of the immense emotional ordeal he had been facing in the wake of one damned girl named Albany Olivia Newson. Shit. He was teaching the fifth year Slytherins and Gryffindors next. This class in particular had been a complete hellscape for him. Teaching the Slytherins and Ravenclaws last year had been tolerable, but the rivalry and subsequent loathsome tomfoolery and competition made the dynamic absolutely insufferable. Much more, the Slytherins expected him to vouch for their stupidity and the Gryffindors were even more stupid than usual to try to aggravate the school’s least favorite professor and Head of infamous Slytherin House.

He watched as Albany filed into the class and took a seat right in the back, plopping down her materials without much grace. Immediately, her eyes darted up to meet his. He wouldn’t invade her mind, as he knew she could tell, and, admittedly, he did need to refine his manners as a legilimens. Her eyes were wide as they bore into his soul without that sense of subtle invasion, pupils enlarging with every millisecond. Her mouth was slightly ajar. She was wearing red lipstick. He felt his heart drop, and immediately looked away, putting on his signature scowl and pacing back and forth at the front of the class, clearing his throat menacingly before speaking.

“Today we will be reviewing three potions, all of which you will be expected to brew simultaneously in three separate cauldrons. The Draught of Peace. The Calming Draught. The Invigoration Draught. They will need to be _memorized_. This is not an open-book assignment. To prepare for your exams in the next few months, you will need to have a most intimate knowledge of these potions and others that we have studied. You may work with a partner, but do be aware that on the final exam… You. Are. Alone. Now, proceed.” he said, immediately retreating into the back of the classroom where he could get his bearings and his pounding migraine under control.

“Albany, we’re in this together, right?” Mpho said, holding up his pinky finger. She enthusiastically wrapped hers around his.

“We better be.” Albany nodded, glancing briefly at the shadow of Severus in the corner before heading into the storeroom with Mpho to gather ingredients.

When they had gathered ingredients, Mpho began going through through them, weighing them, and sorting which ones were to be ground with a mortar and pestle and handing off that task to Albany altogether.

“Albany.” someone said. Albany whipped around. It was Juliet.

“Can I speak to you?” she asked.

“Yes. Is everything alright?” Albany replied.

“Well… I… I think Jonas has really been missing you lately.”

“Oh?”

“He says that you’ve been ignoring him for over a month.”

“Yeah, that’s true. I’m just… dealing with some things right now. I haven’t been feeling like myself.” Albany said, speaking genuinely.

It was true, she hadn’t been feeling quite herself lately. Aside from the sex dreams about her slimy old professor, stress about her exams, and her struggle balancing out a secret lesbian relationship, she felt that there was something wrong with her physically. Sure, she could take potions from the hospital wing to help with that, but she always felt embarrassed to go by there. She even made Jonas go and pick up their contraceptive potions when the two of them needed one.

There was something in her that was afraid of potions, especially the idea of ingesting them. It scared her, admittedly. Something about it was all the more nerve-wracking given that she herself had made some of them and Severus made the rest. That was terrifying, it felt far too intimate. She had no idea what could be wrong with her. Her body was in a constant state of pain, her heart pounded far past its normal rate, she was constantly tired. Her mood swings were out of control, she was eating everything. She felt like a real trainwreck.

“I’m sure, Albany. People are awfully tough on you, and I’m sorry about that, I really am.” she said.

“Thank you, Juliet. You know, we haven’t really talked before?”

“Yeah, I guess we haven’t.”

Albany held out her hand. “Let’s be friends. How about it?” Juliet took it and smiled.

“Alright. I have to get back to my cauldrons, otherwise Snape is going to literally rip my spine out of my body. Feel better, Albany. Get some rest.” Juliet practically skipped back to her table to meet with her giggling group of girl friends.

“She was being awfully nice.” Mpho commented, having done half of the preparatory work for Albany already.

“Well, I’m not complaining.” Albany remarked, following his lead and slicing and dicing some porcupine quills.

“I’m kind of suspicious, really. She was… too nice.” Mpho mumbled, eyes still intently focused on the task at hand.

“Well, as if we’re the ones to judge, being Slytherins and all. I dunno, maybe it’s her demonstrating some Gryffindor chivalry?”

“I doubt it.”

“Fine, grumpy-pants.” Albany mumbled, picking up the syrup of hellebore a bit too casually, and beginning to pour it directly into the cauldron, before a calloused hand had its firm grip around her wrist.

“Miss Newson, do you not remember that syrup of hellebore is not just highly noxious, but highly poisonous as well. Were you not paying attention to our safety precautions in January?” His voice was stern but his eyes were surprisingly soft. He kept his unrelenting grip on her wrist, and Mpho looked on, completely consumed by abject terror.

When Albany didn’t respond, he feigned irritation and rolled his eyes, letting go of her aching wrist and whipping out his wand. He suspended the hazardous liquid into a bubble before summoning glass vials and distributing the mixture in thirds accordingly and sealing it with a silver stopper, which Mpho had laying on their workspace.

“Heat up the vials at their corresponding heat. Pour only when the grounded porcupine quills is added, add the powdered moonstones as a… garnish of sorts. Proceed.” He then curtly walked away. Mpho looked over at Albany in shock and gleeful surprise.

“What the hell was that about? He never helps people out!” Mpho gasped.

Albany panicked. Other students were taking notice, but were soon distracted by Severus ridiculing and then verbally abusing a clumsy Gryffindor who had spilled his powdered moonstone all over his workstation and onto the aisle of the classroom floor.

“What’s your secret, babe?” A rather obnoxious Gryffindor Quidditch player said, leaning across the aisle to wink at her and blow kisses. His buddy laughed, giving him a high five.

“Yeah, what _is_ your secret, Newson?” Merula smirked. Albany hated this narcissistic bitch. “I bet we’d all like to know what it is about you that has everyone so _enamoured_ , hm?”

“SILENCE!” Severus roared. The entire classroom grew so still that you could hear a pin drop. His voice did indeed have power. “No more chatter. If you all fail to brew these potions, you will each lose ten points from your house.” This was met with groans and complaints. “I recommend you proceed before whining like children and wasting everyone’s precious time.”

The class finished, cauldrons would explode or boil over, his migraine would worsen. Albany and her little beta male twink of a partner finished early, as a matter of fact. He noted some improvement on her part, and her little friend had always been an _acceptable_ student. He wanted, however, to hold her back after class, to talk to her, to know why…

He looked up and saw that she had already gone, though she had left behind a bound leather book. He would leave it in his office for her to pick up during her detention. She walked towards the worktable and took the book. It seemed rather old, a bit torn in places. He briefly skimmed through its pages, enjoying the crowded, impulsive cursive scrawls lining each page. He closed it, knowing that it could hold personal information, before stalking off to his office to put the book in his drawer and then return to his classroom, effectively cleaning up the mess with the flick of his jet-black wand. It was only lunchtime and it was already a horribly stressful day.

 

***

 

Dinner in the Great Hall. Albany was having a rather stressful day of her own. She should have been feeling good about the way her grades were on the rise in preparation for her O.W.L.s, but there still remained a lingering sense of panic mixed with self-doubt. The panic obviously derived from the fact that people were catching on to something being there between her and Severus. This was admittedly terrifying. Other people certainly wouldn’t want to believe it. Why would they want to believe that an ugly, mean, cold professor had any sort of physical contact with a student, even though it was just hugging. She felt ashamed of even providing him comfort. Why did things have to be like this? Why was she so preoccupied with this, she thought to herself, chewing on her lip and frowning throughout dinner.

She was jolted out of her thoughts by a hand tapping her shoulder. She spun around, and looked up to see Jonas. She initially smiled at him, but that was long gone when she looked at his somber face. He almost looked like he was about to cry, or scream, or both.

“Can we talk, outside, for a minute?” he asked. They were drawing some attention.

“Of course.” Albany said, nearly jogging to catch up with Jonas’s pace, as he was really high-tailing it the hell out of there.

They stood outside of the Great Hall, Albany a bit out of breath from her exertion and Jonas puffing and puffing with anger. It all finally came to a head.

“I saw you and Belle the other day, Albany. You’re basically treating her like you should be treating me, and that’s not fair. I was fine with you fooling around, I thought it was pretty hot actually, but this is the last straw. You’ve chosen her over me. I’m calling this off. I don’t date full-blooded dykes.” he said. Albany felt her stomach drop, her world spin. Her one sense of security, of validation, was crumbling like dust right before her very eyes. She looked at Jonas, and he suddenly seemed absolutely furious, clearly convinced that the love of his life had utterly betrayed him.

“Jonas! I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I…” She was beginning to panic, hoping that there was a chance he wouldn’t leave her, that he wouldn’t abandon her.

“I think it’s fitting they call you a hog, actually. I didn’t want to say it, because I didn’t want to see you crying in the halls again making a big scene, like you always seem to do. Don’t you have any self control?” he spat in her face, quite literally. She had to wipe some off her cheek.

This hit her hard. He was right, she was a slut and a trainwreck. She couldn’t help herself when it came to sex. She was obsessed with it, she spent every waking hour thinking about it, and compulsively masturbated anytime she was alone in her room when Fae was out. She thought of her options for retaliation in this precarious position, and let loose all the bullshit she had been keeping inside of her since practically the beginning of the year.

“I knew all along that you and Juliet were fooling around. And Marie. And Christina. And Opal. And Sarah. I knew about all of them, and I didn’t say anything. I’ve always been a fucking receptacle for your boyish prick, and quite simply, I deserve better, and I _have_ better. Now you go and fuck yourself, go wank yourself silly, Jonas Cunningway! I never want you to speak to me ever again!” Albany screamed, completely losing her temper, her face turning bright red.

“Well good! You won’t ever see me again after I graduate, you can be sure of that!”

“I’m happy!” she shrieked, clearly not speaking so honestly. “Truly, happy! Go, live your life, find your perfect little wife, have your picket-fence and kids, and forget all about me! What was I, some kind of practice dummy to spice up your future little perfect life of domesticity? Fuck. You.”

They had acquired a bit of an audience, some snickering at Jonas, and others laughing at Albany’s outburst. Albany felt tears welling up in her eyes, but she didn’t want to try and make a more of a spectacle of herself than she had done to many times before. She hurried back into the Great Hall to pick up her things, and, of course, bumped into Severus Snape in the process. Their eyes locked for a moment before she continued on to her spot at the table, telling Mpho she needed to take a nap before heading to the library to study. She grabbed her bag quickly, and hightailed it back to her dormitory.

 

***

 

“What the hell is this?” Fae said, holding up the photo of Severus that Albany had taken from his student file.

“Give me that!” Albany cried, lunging towards Fae, desperately grasping for the photo. Fae held her back with one arm, holding the photo up high and away from her with her free hand.

“No way. What the hell was this doing in your bra and panty drawer?”

“Why the fuck were you looking through my stuff? Were you trying to sniff my panties or something? You fucking perv! Why were you going through my stuff?!?”

“No reason…” Fae said, blushing a bit, pushing Albany off of her and putting the photo behind her back. “This is Professor Snape, isn’t it? Quite a bit younger. In a bit of an unfortunate state, isn’t he?” she laughed. “You know, my father knew him pretty well at this time. He thought Snape was always a bit strange…”

“Give. It. Back.” Albany said through gritted teeth. “Don’t make me hex you, _Capricia Fae Donna Prizmik_!” Albany knew Fae hated it when someone said her full name.

“What, do _you_ want to fuck the brains out of the greasy bat of the dungeons?”

“No, but I know you do. Now, give that back, Fae.”

“Tell me why you have this.” Fae demanded, waving around the photograph.

“It’s really none of your business.” Albany scowled, her cheeks growing hot. She hadn’t been this embarrassed since Filch had caught her giving head to Jonas in that fucking broom closet. She shuddered at that memory. “Now, you were going through my shit, my _private_ shit, so you have no right to knowing why I have that. Why do we have to keep fighting, Fae? I don’t mean you any harm!”

“I don’t… I don’t either, Albany. Honestly. I just… why the hell do you have this?”

Albany cracked. “Fine! I was sorting through files with Filch when I was in detention two weeks ago with Jonas and I saw it. I… I think he’s an interesting person. I wanted to understand what he was like when he was our age. That’s all, I swear.”

Fae seemed relatively satisfied with that answer, and reluctantly handed the photograph back to Albany. “He does seem to like you too, for the record. We all saw the way he helped you out in class this morning. He doesn’t have to do that, and he definitely never has, so why did he do it for you? You, of all people? You, who has lost so many points for Slytherin and cost us the house cup last year, and likely this year.”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I’ve been in detention everyday with him for two years and I’ve improved so much in potions, leaps and bounds really, so maybe he actually is taking proper pity on me at this point?” She was praying to God or some other Supreme Being that this would convince Fae enough and they could drop the subject altogether.

Fae laughed. “That could be true. So what do you even do in detention?”

“Oh, just typical things… I organize ingredients, mop the floors, brew simple potions for the hospital wing…”

“That actually sounds like responsibility.” Fae remarked.

“Well, he’s only recently let me brew some basic remedial potions myself. They have to be perfect, though, and I think I’ve got them down, more or less.” Albany said. She fumbled about a bit, not entirely sure how to continue the conversation.

“I wish he paid that much attention to me…” Fae mumbled to herself, barely audible.

“Why is it that you think he’s hot, Fae? Like, I’m genuinely curious. You were so… forthright about declaring your passions at the beginning of last year, remember?”

“Well, my father and Snape spent a lot of time together… I shouldn’t even mention that. It’s like a given that we’re not supposed to mention…” she paused, looking into Albany’s eyes for a moment as if deciding on something. “He’s… he’s not what he seems. Only children of Death Eaters attending this school know that about him.”

“No, I _know_. He was a Death Eater.” Albany said very matter-of-factly.

“How the hell did you learn that?” Fae gasped. “He didn’t… he didn’t _tell_ you, did he?”

“He did, actually.” She regretted saying that the moment she let it escape her mouth.

“What the fuck...” Fae was flabbergasted. “Why would he tell you? I thought he doesn’t even like you. He’s given you, like, eternal detention… Oh.” A dangerous look appeared on her face.

“No, it’s not what it looks like, Fae.”

“You like him!”

“No!”

“You were moaning in your sleep for HIM!”

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

“I was not!”

“Were too!”

“Was not!”

“Were too! Hey, lemme see that photo again! I wanna see how good you two would look like as a couple! Prom king and queen, am I right? Do you kiss this photo at night, Albany?”

“Gross, stop it!”

“I bet you have lots of sexy dreams about being spanked into submission by his leathery bat hands, don’t you?”

“No, you do!”

“That’s not the point! What, has he felt you up or something again the stone cold walls of his sex lair!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!?” Albany screamed, almost too shocked for words.

“Well, what is wrong with you, being a _mudblood_ who wants to dry hump an old, mean, ugly _Death Eater_?”

“Give me the photo!” Fae lunged at her, knocking Albany against a wall as she fumbled with her robes.

“Fuck off!” Albany panicked, whipping out her wand and casting _Petrificus Totalis_ wordlessly, cringing at the sound of Fae’s stiff body thudding on the stone floor of their dormitory.

“Oh, God.” Albany groaned to herself, already getting started on heaving Fae’s heavy body back onto her bed. She sighed, planning what course of action she had to take next.

She started by awkwardly removing Fae’s robes and uniforms and putting on a t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants. She grabbed a makeup wipe from Fae’s vanity and removed all that black eyeshadow from her face, as well as the matte concealer from her cheeks. Without all that bric-a-brac, Fae was quite a beautiful girl. She was secretly a ginger, actually, though Albany assumed that she hid this because she didn’t want to be associated with the Weasleys, although the Charlie incident surely would challenge that assertion.

She sat down on the side of the bed where she drew her wand. Her hand started shaking, considering how she was to proceed with this, or whether it was even worth it. What if she messed up? What if she were to turn Fae into a vegetable? This girl may be annoying, sometimes a complete asshole, but she didn’t deserve that… no one did…

She had to do this. She had already made up her mind. Once Albany Olivia Newson made up her mind, there was no way she wouldn’t see it through. She took a deep breath, thinking of this evening, and this evening only, focusing on the evening, its memories, what had happened...

Fae was just coming back to consciousness when Albany said, clearly articulating so as to not mess up the spell, “ _Obliviate._ ”

 

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes. Sex dreams are always super weird, especially if you have them about anyone you know. Anyone. Also, roommate conflicts are literally my every waking moment right now, but I don't think Fae is even nearly as bad as what I'm dealing with.
> 
> :')
> 
> Music! Per ~always~ (get the glorious reference?)
> 
> 1\. If I Could Change Your Mind (Haim): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ljg6g7BAdQo
> 
> 2\. Nobody (Mitski): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qooWnw5rEcI
> 
> 3\. Bitch (The Rolling Stones): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3N0A2b7nbdM
> 
> 4\. Get It While You Can (Janis Joplin): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ju9yFA1S7K8
> 
> WARNING: This next chapter is going to get seriously heavy. You have been warned. 
> 
> 5\. Parasite (Nick Drake): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2_hN3otvC6g
> 
> SPOTIFY PLAYLIST: https://open.spotify.com/user/mooniemoe/playlist/1BftWaSHedV8PHnvuicKXB?si=LKrxiuVEQ165ytubpi2V2w


	13. A Pub, Rotary Phone, and Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *SMUT!!! themes of alcoholism, sexual assault, etc. Don't read if these things are triggering for you or make you uncomfortable.
> 
> ~~~
> 
> Albany deals with terrible loss, and Severus offers up his own perverse, grumpy, snarky form of well-intended consolation, dreams are had... and it goes terribly wrong.
> 
> This chapter is really quite heavy. It took a lot of willpower to just sit down and write it and continue on with the story. Kudos and comments are highly appreciated.

 

***

 

Today was the day Albany had scheduled to go the nearest Muggle town’s only phone available to the public, and said phone was located right in a particularly sleazy pub. Albany didn’t even understand their thick Scottish drone, but nodded along when anyone would ever try to talk to her. Fortunately, they didn’t ask her too many questions, or why a young woman with a slightly off-kilter Oxfordshire accent was hanging around this working class Scottish moorland village and seemed to only come in to use the pub’s old rotary phone from twenty years ago. She made sure to wear her Muggle clothes during this ritual, though she would always promptly change back into her uniform when it was time for dinner in the Great Hall or whenever she had detention. Not that it was entirely necessary, she just didn’t want people asking where she had been.

She had managed to get the Fae situation under control. She was quite proud of herself for not fucking up the spell too badly. From the looks of it, Fae still knew who she was… at least. She seemed perfect fine, as far as Albany could tell. She had wanted to hide the photograph in her diary, but she noticed that it had disappeared, which was a bit nerve-wracking. She had no idea who could be going through the last three years of personal baggage. They would certainly be finding some highly embarrassing material. She had tried _accio Albany’s diary_ , but it didn’t worked. It must have been stuck somewhere. She ended up just keeping the photo in her bag at all times. She thought it would be safer there.

Once she arrived at the pub, Albany decided, now that she was of drinking age, she might get herself a beer while she was there, even though this pub didn’t even bother to ask for identification anyways.

Sitting at the bar made her feel very grown up. She ordered a beer and nearly gagged at the quality. Soon, shitty scotch whiskey after shitty scotch whiskey followed. What else did she expect from such a shithole of a Muggle town? She drank quickly and stalked over to the rotary phone, where she dialed up her mother’s home number. Sometimes she wasn’t around and didn’t pick up, though, for the most part, they had an establish phone call regime.

She rang. “Hey, mum.” No answer. She was sure the call went through.

“Mum?” Albany asked on the phone, waiting for a response amidst the sudden surge of heavy breathing now on the other end of the line. She had wanted to call her mother to confirm her arrival back in London in the next two weeks, to ask her mother if she could pick her up at the station.

“ _Your father… he is dead, Albany. He is dead. He did it to himself. He hung himself, do you hear? He’s gone, gone, gone… the bastard has left us for good, Albany! He’s left us with nothing, nothing, nothing…_ ”

Crying erupted on the other end of the line. Albany was in too much shock to respond. Her body froze, her vision dimmed. She nearly dropped the phone.

She slowly hung up, her movements as stiff as they could have been, and walked back to the bar. She ordered drink after drink after drink, until she realized she didn’t have enough money. Soon, scotch whiskey after scotch whiskey. She pointed her wand at the bartender, as no one else was around other than a fat bloke drooling on himself in the corner, and obliviated him. Perhaps she had been a bit too rough or clumsy with the spell, because she most definitely turned this poor Muggle into a vegetable. She was too drunk to notice, however.

She stumbled out of the bar, and had the stupid idea to apparate back to Hogsmeade, where she intended to order several rounds of shots or whatever else before making her way to… detention. She apparated back to Hogsmeade, and shrieked in pain as her right shoe and big toenail had completely disappeared, as well as a chunk of hair (she hadn’t noticed this yet). Could’ve been worse for a first time.

“Shit, shit, shit!” she drunkenly yelped, hopping up and down on her other leg. “Albany, you’re a bloody idiot! Argh!”

Nonetheless, if Albany Olivia Newson wanted something, she would get it. She dragged her bloody foot through the muck and cobblestones of Hogsmeade, garnering much attention.

She was sure she smelled like cigarettes from the bar and most certainly like alcohol, but she was far too drunk to even begin to care. She managed to find the Hog’s Head Pub, which had been decimated by Death Eaters back in 1978 and rebuilt two years later.

She went inside, headed straight for the bar, sat herself between two shady older wizards, and ordered Berry Ocky Rot, Dragon Barrel Brandy, Daisyroot Draught, Hog’s Head Brew (to commemorate the fine establishment), and Paulopabita’s Fish Green Ale. Someone was paying for her drinks…

One of the men next to her, who she couldn’t even discern at this point, bought her a round of shots and they took them together, arms intertwined as though they were old drinking buddies, before he proceeded to lead this distraught young witch missing a shoe for a very bloody foot out in an alleyway. He proceed to kiss her neck and reach his hands up under her shirt. She panicked, kicking him off of her and drawing her wand. She couldn’t quite balance herself, pointing the pearlescent wood towards the muddied abstract shape of the predator.

“ _Impedimenta!_ ” she said, trying her best not to slur her words. “ _Fumos…_ ” she mumbled, falling into the smoke and limping as fast as she could back to the castle without making a bigger scene of herself.

She finally made it back to the dungeons. She didn’t want to return to her room in this state, and, very stupidly, decided to show up to detention instead, all with a bloody shoeless foot still in her Muggle clothes. Something about going back to the Common Room and to her room with Fae was more embarrassing than showing up to her detention with the most feared professor in school in this state.

There she was, knocking over and over again at his door, leaning up against it, closing and opening her eyes, the world beginning to spin around her. Soon enough, the door opened, and she fell into his office, having been leaning on the door. With her eyes half-closed, she looked up and mumbled, “Am I late?”.

 

***

 

Severus Snape was sitting at his desk, grading abysmal papers. What else was new? It was approaching the tail end of his office hours. He had no visitors today, which was more than splendid for him. His whole body hurt today. His day had been nothing but stress and anxiety. Needless to say, it was a perfectly regular day in the life of Severus Snape.

He actually had a discussion with the Deputy Headmistress, the gem of Gryffindor herself, about his wanton behaviour with that insufferable Hufflepuff first year. Turns out the little brat couldn’t keep her mouth shut. She would have to learn how to, at least by the end of the year. Just because her sister, Penny Haywood, was accomplished in potions, she had no right to be just a little whiny git. However, Severus let Minerva reprimand him. After all, she was telling the truth and was in the right. However, he didn’t let his face show it. He kept up his cruel, nasal unaffected demeanor. McGonagall certainly had gotten used to it by now.

“Severus, you know the students would only benefit if you were to behave a bit more courteously, don’t you think?” she said in her prim and proper vaguely Scottish drawl.

“I have no obligation to behave any way in particular, Minerva.” he mumbled. “As a matter of fact, you and I are both aware of my _unique_ circumstances and place within this establishment, no?”

“Severus, do not think that you can abuse your position.” She actually looked serious.

“No, Minerva, I am doing no such thing. I see we have different standards for behaviour, so let’s let bygones be bygones.” He hated this conversation with all his heart and soul.

“I hope you do not intend to scold Miss Haywood for confiding in me?”

“Oh, certainly not.” he said, rather sarcastically.

“Are you not aware of how _privileged_ and _fortunate_ you are to be a professor here?” She was losing her temper, just a bit. The woman was as intelligent as they come, but she still was prone to wading in and expressing powerful emotions. Severus secretly enjoyed this quality about her, and even, begrudgingly, admired it.

“I am, Minerva.”

“And are you not _grateful_?”

“I’m afraid this conversation is entering irrelevant territory, Minerva.”

Minerva frowned. She walked out of his office without another word.

Just thinking about this interaction gave him another migraine. He knew the faculty were generally indifferent about him, some didn’t even fully trust him. They trusted Dumbledore, and Dumbledore trusted him, so did they know they _should_ trust Severus Snape, former Death Eater turned member of the Order of the Phoenix? Did they even want to? Certainly not. By looks alone, he was the most suspicious, volatile, and mean little hermit to walk the face of the earth. He wasn’t even so old, only twenty-eight, though he looked and acted as though he already was much older, withered and tired of life. Which he was.

There was a knocking on his door. Incessant. Knocking. Unrelenting. Knocking. He was sure it was another prank by a bunch of resentful upperclassmen who had flunked their O.W.L.s the year before and wanted revenge. It had happened before.

He sighed, kneading his temples with his thumbs and forefinger before approaching the door. Upon flinging it open dramatically, as was his custom, he was shocked to see Albany fall into the office, sprawled out in the threshold between the office floor and the dungeons corridor. Was she… missing a shoe? Was… her foot bleeding? Was… part of her hair missing?

“Am I late?” she groaned, looking up at him with half-shut eyes before limply dropping her head onto the floor, eyelids fluttering shut as though she were about to take a nap.

He quickly hauled her through the threshold of his office, slamming and locking the door shut with his signature wordless, wandless magic.

“Albany, what happened?” he said, holding her in his arms, supporting her weight.

She didn’t reply. She smiled, as though she were having a sweet dream.

“Albany!”

He grabbed her cheeks in one hand, shaking her head back and forth a bit before she opened her eyes. Her eyes were blank, unfocused, as though they were seeing nothing.

“What happened?” he shouted, shaking her head again, before picking her up bridal-style and carrying her through the door in the back of his office leading into his private quarters. He set her down on his leather couch in his sitting room, watching as her head flopped to the side. Suddenly, her eyes flew open.

“Oh my God… Sev…” she mumbled, pointing at him and laughing. “I’m so sorry I’m… like this. I got a little… I got a little…”

“Are you intoxicated, Miss Newson?” he asked, pacing back in forth in front of his fireplace, eyes occasionally darting over to this disheveled creature not in his private quarters.

“No, you’re Albany. It’s Severus. Oh, oh my God…” she said, beginning to cackle before wincing in pain and looking down at her foot. “I turned my hand and… I didn’t puke this time but… I lost my toenail, oh God!” She burst into laughter again, running her hands through her hair. She then realized that an entire section of her hair was missing as well. “Holy shit! Oh no!” she said, tears welling up in her eyes. “My hair!”

He realized that this foolish girl had tried to apprate, a skill she was too undeveloped in her magic to perform, likely in her intoxicated state as well.

“Did you attempt apparition, Miss Newson?”

“Albany!” Same old Albany.

“Well, did you?”

“Yeah, Andrea Palestone… my best friend in the whole wide world who I love so much… I love her so much…”

“Yes?”

“She taught me. I love her so much...”

Severus frowned, looking down at her, figuring out what to do first to assuage the situation at hand.

“I will fetch you a keratin regrowth potion, Albany. It will regrow… your toenail… as well as your hair. And of course, I will fetch one for your… state. Wait here a moment, please.” he said, sprinting back to the potions supply closet.

“Andrea Palestone is the best girl I know… I love her so much…”

When he returned, she had taken off her other shoe and sock and had thrown them into the fire. She was standing in front of the fireplace as though in the grasps of the Imperius Curse, her eyes glazed over. The noxious odors of melting felt and plastic permeated the room.

“Albany!” he scolded, gagging before swishing his wand and clearing away the toxic stench. “Now, come…” He approached her, taking her by the shoulders and leading her back to the couch, where he sat her down and handed her a vial of potion.

“Take the smallest sip of this. Be very careful not to drink all of it...” he commanded. She promptly took the whole vial and chugged it down the hatch as though it were a shot.

“ALBANY! FOR CHRIST’S SAKE!” he roared.

She began to cackle. Immediately, her toenail grew back, as well the bald patch on the side of her head. In fact, her fingernails and toenails were three times their length and her hair was now reaching down to her knees. She looked like some kind of perverted fairytale princess.

“Don’t worry about that, Sev… just… I can just clip them myself. You’re not a… salon. Oh my God! You working in a salon is the funniest thing I’ve ever thought of… Oh, my God.”

She looked back down at her fingernails and toenails, which had grown another five inches before stopping entirely. Finally. “Okay, do you have clippers or something? This is so embarrassing, oh no...” She looked absolutely ridiculous. He did feel a bit bad for her realizing she seemed genuinely humiliated.

He sighed, desperately trying to compartmentalize what the hell was going on. This was a much more eventful night than he had ever planned for. He went to his lavatory and grabbed the one pair he had, handing them to her, hoping she wouldn’t hurt herself drunkenly in some way. He wasn’t quite ready to help her with that task, however. That was… a bit too intimate. Using a severing charm would have been a bit too technically challenging.

She would need another one of the potions he brewed for the hospital wing to be used at dances or other rubbish events. He hated drunk people, they reminded him of his father. It infuriated him to see someone waste away their mind, succumbing to numbness rather than be an active participant in… Well, he had been drinking quite a bit himself of late. Was she also drinking alone? Was it with… friends? Why had she been drinking at all on a Thursday night? She had classes tomorrow.

He went to the potions supply closet again and found what he was looking for. He walked back into his sitting room and handed her the vial. “You may take a shot this time.” Was he being playful? She did as she was told, and her face practically turned green upon tasting the foul liquid.

“What the hell was that?”

“Something to sober you up. Quickly.” he said, leaning down and wrenching the clippers from her hands, doing the work himself much more efficiently. He had been here before, what with his toenail growing hex he invented back when he was a student here. He was his own test dummy... what could he say? He never thought, in his wildest dreams, however, that he would ever be clipping a student’s toes and fingernails. What a night this was.

When he had finished his work, he evanescoed away the clippings with much disgust, and proceeded to lead Albany to his lavatory and to the toilet where she began to vomit profusely, all while he held back her hair, which was now so long that it practically dragged on the floor. He would have to give her another one of the potions for sobering up.

“Would you like me to cut your hair back to its former length with a severing charm, Albany?” he asked her as she spat the last bits of bile into his toilet.

Albany stood up on shaking feet and rinsed her mouth out in the sink. He realized that he was still holding onto her hair, and he promptly let go. He hoped she didn’t notice. She took it up in her hands, her eyes growing wide realizing how long it had become.

“Oh my God, are you kidding? I’m going to look like some kind of woodland enchantress. This is so cool!” she squealed. She was definitely starting to sober up, though she would need another potion as she had likely vomited up most of the first one.

“Why don’t you teach this potion in class?”

“It is simply a keratin-regrowth potion. I used it to help with your missing… toenail… It doesn’t have much practical use outside of medicinal necessities. Now, tell me, why was it you were trying to apparate while intoxicated, Albany?” he asked her. A look of shame and sadness crossed her face.

“I’ll tell you if you let me clean the hell out of my mouth.” she said.

“Of course.” He reached into the cabinet and pulled out an unused Muggle toothbrush still in its box.

“Accustomed to Muggle devices like this, huh?” she remarked. He didn’t answer, and headed back into the sitting room.

She began to brush her teeth and tongue quite aggressively, before rinsing her face with water and playing with her curls, which were flailing about in all directions after her botched apparition attempt and drunken escapades. She took some water and cleaned up the mascara that was dripping down her cheeks and the stains around her mouth from where her lipstick had been smudged while messily chugging various drinks.

She left the lavatory looking like a new person and found Severus sitting on the couch, eyes deep in concentration, watching the green flicker of his fireplace. He looked up, took her in solemnly, and bid her to sit down. So she did.

“Why were you intoxicated, Albany?”

She didn’t reply.

“I won’t punish you, but you have to tell me why. You know why this is so troubling for me. It has become personal, as a matter of fact.”

“Your father.” she mumbled, looking down at her hands.

“Yes, my father was an alcoholic. We have discussed this.”

“My father was one too.” she said, looking up at him, her eyes bright, almost green in the light of the dungeons, completely wet and glazed over, as though she were to burst into tears at any given moment. “He killed himself this morning.”

“Oh, Albany…” He had never been good with offering sympathy, emotional support, or even knowing himself how to grieve. He either remained stoic or completely fell apart. The former was a more common reaction for him.

“I called my mother at a pub in the nearest Muggle town. She told me what happened. Then I drank at the pub. Then I apparated, badly, to Hogsmeade. Then I drank at the Hog’s Head. Then I stumbled here. Now I’ve embarrassed myself in front of someone I _like_ , someone I respect and admire, and now I have nothing and no one...” She began to cry, burying her face into her hands, shaking her head back and forth as it willing this all to not be true.

She… _liked_ him?

Through an impulse that he didn’t knew existed within him, Severus reached out and took her in his arms, letting her silent tears stain the sleeves of his pressed black outerwear, pressing her close to his body, breathing in the smell of whiskey, beer, and vodka in her skin and hair. There still remained a hint of vanilla and burning wood. It reminded him of his own perverted sense of home which was, admittedly, a bit frightening.

“We have more in common now, huh?” Albany stuttered in between sharp, quick breaths and sniffles.

“Yes, perhaps we do. In some way.” Severus replied, looking down at the dark stone floor of the sitting room, his gaze shifting to her long hair dangling off the sofa, to her body pressed against his sternum. She lifted up her face, and their eyes locked.

The breath seemed to drift from each other’s open, waiting mouths. They stayed there, agape, falling into the darkness and the lightness, the dilation of pupils. Without thinking, though with as much intention as he could muster, Severus leaned in and rested his mouth against hers, their lips only lightly touching, held in a delicate, almost statuesque embrace, the two of them almost too scared to even breathe. She parted her mouth slightly, slowly running her tongue across his bottom lip. After several moments of stillness, he parted his own mouth, their tongues touching one another delicately, almost reverently, before beginning to slowly twist and turn, tasting one another’s palates and teeth. As one can imagine, Albany tasted rather minty.

Before they knew it, their tongues were swirling manically against one another’s, teeth clashing violently. She pulled at his slick hair, and he rested his hands at the nape of her neck, letting his hands fall into the warmth of her scalp, tangling his long, nimble fingers in her curls. She released herself from his mouth and released the buttons on his high collar, kissing down his neck as though he were a saint and it was her duty to serve him.

He removed his hands from her hair and wrapped them around her waist and lower back, before pulling her towards him by the bum, returning her pretty plain face back to his waiting mouth, where they bit hard on each other’s lips, tongues, neck, chest, all the while clashing their teeth. He began to squeeze her lush ass, hard enough to bruise, making her moan into him.

He took his mouth and ran his teeth across her neck before finding a soft spot safely away from her jugular and biting down as hard as he could. She shrieked like some kind of animal before bending back her head, allowing him better access to her neck and sensitive skin, where he proceeded to give her three or four more smaller bites. It was as though he had completely lost his mind, lost his infamous control, and was becoming undone. The moment he drew away, she returned her attention to his mouth and began kissing him again, even more frenzied and aggressive than they had earlier. He grabbed her by the waist with one hand and by the ass with another, and pulled her as close to him as he could, so close that the friction and the tension was quite literally palpable. They could feel both of their rapid heartaches, Albany pressing up against his erection which was practically throbbing.

Suddenly, Severus began to panic, having returned to his right mind after nearly ten minutes of a pure sensory overload snogging session with a… _student_ . Reality hit him like a freight train, and his eyes burst open, taking in the full-figured woman with wild hair, his _student_ , whose ass he had been kneading and whose neck he had been biting and whose lips he had been devouring so shamelessly just moments ago. He’d also clipped a student’s toenails, which was rather odd, but paled in comparison with the snogging. Not only that, he had taken advantage of an attractive young woman who had just discovered her father had committed suicide. That was worst of all.

“I have taken you in a state of weakness. I am so sorry.” he cried, pulling her off of his mouth by her hair and jolting to his feet. “Tell Albus… Dumbledore… tell him what I have done!”

“No, Severus, I wanted this! I’m not going to tell Professor Dumbledore. Why would I?” she said honestly, looking up at him, her hair tangled and in disarray, the bite mark on her neck dark purple and maroon, even _bleeding_ slightly, each of Severus’s individual teeth clearly visible on her pale skin.

“You must. What I have done is wrong. Please, you must leave.”

“I wanted this, Severus. I wanted you.”

“You don’t. You’re young, naïve, intelligent, and far too beautiful to ever associate yourself with me, aside from the fact that you are a student at an institution where I am your teacher.” he said sternly, resting his eyes on the giant bite mark and the smaller bruises his mouth had left on her.

_You are nothing more than a perverted, foul hypocrite. You assumed that she liked that, didn’t you? You had paid attention to her back at the start of the term when you humiliated her, made her cry, in front of a classroom of thirty or more. Were you learning from her silly 17-year-old boyfriend on how to please her? Bloody hell… you’re a damn fool._

He had immediately regretted complimenting her, _You don’t compliment people, Sev,_ knowing full well that she will attach herself further to him, seeking consolation, something to boost her fragile ego.

Admittedly, when he looked at the mark he left with his mouth and teeth, it felt good to claim her. He had only done this a few times in his past, usually with other more submissive Death Eater women (and sometimes men), though he had never kissed them. He had _kissed_ her. He had kissed _her_ . He _never_ kissed anyone, that was his one rule when it came to sexual relations.

_You were saving yourself for Lily, you were holding off for her, you had vowed to never kiss, to never show romantic affection. This is not love. You spoiled it, you ruined yourself. You’re meddling with the psyche of a child. Perhaps she thinks it’s all a joke. She’s laughing at you right now. She knows that you’re a fool, that you’re a laughingstock. You always were, Severus, you always deserved how they treated you. All of them._

His thoughts were growing more wild with every passing second. His mind was a whirlwind of overwhelming shame, guilt, and confusion. He was unsure as to how he let this happen, or why. He was scared of the fact that a prophecy brought them together, and most certainly _together_ were they brought.

He immediately noticed that she was staring at his bulge, where he was most certainly still leaking. He frowned and grabbed one of his cloaks, throwing it over himself and hiding any hint of his form from view.

“Don’t. Stare.”

She didn’t respond, eyes still searching for some part of his body under the draping black wool fabric he had wrapped around himself like bat wings. No wonder he had that nickname.

She stood up to face him, standing head to sternum due to his lanky height. He looked down at her, trying with all his willpower to move away, to push her away, to do something. Instead, he watched as she reached up and freed the clasp on his robe and began to unbutton the many buttons of his overcoat. She helped him out of it, leaving him with just his white-button up that rarely saw the light of day.

“I had a dream that something like this happened.” she began. Severus felt all the blood leave his body, except his prick, of course. “We were in your office. I was wearing red lipstick. I was on your lap… I…”

“I did as well.” he said.

There were no more words said between the two of them for a moment before Albany began to trace her finger down his chest and to the band of his pants. She started to unbutton the eight or so buttons where any other man’s fly should have been, but he grabbed her by the head and pushed her away from him rather firmly. She stumbled back a few paces, nearly losing her balance and falling backwards and onto the ground, although she managed to catch herself at the last minute. She looked back up at him, a clear expression of rejection and pain plastered on her face, the kind you would have in regards to a girlish crush.

“Get. Out.” he growled at her, becoming once again that stern and loathsome potions master.

Silently and as quickly as she could, Albany hurried out of his private quarters, still barefoot, feet slapping on the cold stone floor of the dungeons once she reached the hall, her mass of curls flying behind her, suddenly incredibly embarrassed with what she had just done.

Severus couldn’t each bear to watch her go. Once he heard the slam of his office door, he hurried into his bedchambers where he frantically unbuttoned his pants, fighting the fucking inconvenience of his buttons. _Why are you so obsessed with buttons again, Sev?_

Once he had pulled his prick out of his boxers, and with only three firm jerks, he came. It was all rather quick, there was _a lot_ of it, and he found himself overwhelmed with raw, almost painful shame, staring down at the mess he made on his favorite black wool rug. Jesus...

He groaned in his usual state of self-pity and practically belly-flopped onto his bed, where he stayed for what felt like hours before he realized he still had papers to grade and brewing to do. He cast a _tempus_ and saw that it was already past midnight. _For fuck’s sake._ He wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight.

Albany arrived back to her room and found that Fae was asleep. She didn’t bother to shower, brush her teeth, brush her hair, she just barely threw on the vintage nightgown she had gotten the previous summer and hadn’t worn yet. She belly-flopped onto her bed, sobbing silently, listening to the symphony of Fae’s infamously loud snoring.

 

***

 

He lay in his bed, staring up as the ceiling as he remembered doing as a child when he had trouble going to sleep. He had finished his work for the night, and he knew for a fact that he was in some kind of a dream-state. Otherwise, what could he attribute the shifting shapes, the blurring in and out of focus, and the pounding migraine matching his heartbeat to? His limbs felt heavy; it was though he couldn’t move. He took deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth. He was praying for sleep, for escape. He failed to entirely realize that he was already sleeping, albeit lightly, blurring reality and dreams, held in a state of suspension of consciousness.

“Severus.” she said, opening the door to his bedchambers, wearing the nightgown she had gotten the previous summer. She had only recently taken to wearing it; it made her feel like some kind of Victorian ghost. Her hair was at its incredible length, thanks to taking a shot slavic-style of one particular keratin potion; the strawberry-blonde strands streaked with brown were nearly touching the floor, perhaps just grazing it.

She approached his bedside, where she sat delicately before staring at him with a firm and unrelenting gaze. “You know this isn’t real.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, I do.”

“So there are no consequences. You know that, don’t you?” she said, getting up on her knees, crawling towards him like some sort of human turned docile pet.

He gulped. He reached out and held her cheek, staring into her eyes before he took up his other hand and cupped her face, which was free of makeup, cheeks rosy, lightly dusted by freckles. Her pupils were alarmingly large, she was taking deep breaths, almost panting.

“You’re not responsible for me.” he found himself muttering, repeating his words from what felt like decades ago.

“You’re not responsible for me either. We’re both scum.” she said, pulling away from his hands, sitting back on her heels, looking at him with inquisitive eyes. “We’ve done terrible things. We’ve behaved badly. We have this in common. We have many things in common.”

“I have done worse in my lifetime than you, Albany. Just the fact that I’m fantasizing about you in this dream, right here and now, is evidence that I am not a good man.” he said, massaging his temples, as even his dream-self was riddled with migraines.

“You’re right, you’ve done nothing but humiliate, criticize, and reprimand me. Why is it that I still like you? Is it some twisted psychological thing? Is it… Freudian? For God’s sake, I hate that blasted man.” she chuckled, tossing her almost comically long hair over one shoulder before returning her gaze to him. “Whatever it is, it’s the way I feel and, quite frankly, I see no reason why not to act on it. We can keep it a secret.”

“This is just a dream…”

“Thanks for reminding me of the obvious, Severus. Perhaps we’re both in a state of lucid dreaming. That’s this thing that Muggle researchers and scientists have been exploring recently, about how you interrupt your REM cycle, which stands for ‘rapid eye movements’, by almost hovering above that, which ensures that you sleep well… or something. I read an article in Scientific American about it. And yes, my Muggle parents are from America, North Carolina, to be specific, so they subscribe to it. Even though they literally know nothing about science. Anyways, Severus, I’m controlling this, so I can do whatever I _want_ with you, to you…” She tried her best to imbue her words with a sultry tone, though Severus almost laughed at her daringness and naïve suavity.

“What do you mean? This is my dream.” Severus replied, growing all the more confused with each passing second. What the hell was going on here?

“This is my dream. Wait…” she paused, her jaw dropping, taking a moment to feel the texture of the bed, of her own nightgown, running her hands through her hair. “It feels so real, though. I guess it could be because I’m a Seer, well I don’t know. I’ll have to ask Firenze about this. Maybe Trelawney if we’re feeling desperate. I know that magic can tamper with dreams in some way. Do you have any books on Divination? I mean, any that are better than the bullshit texts we read in class, at least.” she asked.

“Actually, after I met you, I went through my collection of books back in Spinner’s End and found something on that subject. I was quite interested in it at some point when I was a student. However, it was clear that I didn’t have the ‘Gift’, I suppose. Firenze made me well aware of that my third year.”

“Do you even believe the fact that I’m a Seer?” she asked incredulously.

“I… there was a prophecy.” he began. “It implied that I had to lead a Seer. Prophecies are very vague, as you are likely very much aware of. As you know, I have a difficult relationship to prophecies… Truth be told, I don’t know if I believe it or not.”

“Do you think it’s all a bunch of bullshit? Do you think whatever this is is fake, made up, hallucinated? Why would you even say that?”

“Don’t ever listen to me, Albany. I’m not worth your time. You’re much better off fraternizing with your classmates, your friends. Why do you waste your time with me?”

“Well, although you’re often a jerk, we have this in common, you are speaking to me reasonably nicely. Which is a good sign, I think. You have confessed that you _are_ attracted to me in some capacity… we are drawn to one another, you can’t deny that.” she began, thinking of something and frowning. “Why was it that you did this to me?” she said, pointing to her neck, where all the marks suddenly appeared. He swore they weren’t there earlier. They were shocking to look at, very over-the-top, really.

“I… I don’t know what came over me…”

“You humiliated me in front of the entire class back in October. You made a mockery and a spectacle of me. Now you do the same thing that my ex-boyfriend did. What do you think people are going to say about me when they see this, huh?” she said, glaring down at him.

He began to panic. People would ask questions. He would have to look at her marks while in class. That is, if she wasn’t as ashamed of her condition as last time. He would have to think about what he did, as if he hadn’t spent every waking day of his life overthinking all of the terrible curveballs his time on Earth had thrown his way.

“Did you want to control me? To take ownership over me?” she asked him. He looked up. Their eyes locked. “Jonas wanted to. He wanted me to the perfect girl, a decently pretty, obedient creature with a just enough aesthetically pleasing body who he could fuck into submission from time to time, whenever he felt like it, really. I was made to be at his disposal. I am not that person. You know. You know my bitter tongue and my obnoxious personality.” He didn’t respond. “I am not a commodity. I’m not nice enough or docile enough to ever be one. You’re wondering, did I object to how you left your mark on me? No, I didn’t. If you’ll recall, I gave you better access. And I have very sensitive skin. I was on fucking accutane when I was 13, I should know how sensitive… nevermind, you probably don’t know what that is, I mean, you certainly didn’t use it when you were my age…”

“What? Why would you say that?” he said, growing a bit suspicious, and definitely more confused than earlier, if that was possible.

“No reason.” she said, darting her eyes away, deflecting the question. “Alright, I’ll admit. Filch had Jonas and I go through these student files, and I found your file. I saved the picture of you.”

Severus actually began to laugh, which startled Albany; she literally recoiled.

“Why would you ever want a picture of me? At _that_ age, of all ages… Did you not see how absolutely hideous I was? I had no friends, no one liked me. I was ugly and mean. What else is new? I suppose that’s just what I am. Mean and ugly.”

“I always liked how you looked. And sometimes you aren’t mean. You can’t generalize yourself with just two simple adjectives and call it a day. That’s not how being a person works.”

“You don’t mean that. Surely.”

“No, I do. You’re… different, but…” She looked at him for a moment before leaning forward, placing a delicate kiss with her plush lips on his hooked nose. “I don’t know what is wrong with me… Why I feel this way… The thing is, I know you don’t _love_ me, and you never will. It’s Lily, isn’t it? It’s _always_ been her.” She was breathing into his mouth again, and he turned his head to the side, praying that he wouldn’t lose control again.

“That is true, Albany. You may very well have an unconventional schoolgirl crush on a mean, bitter, ugly Death Eater, a man who once believed that it was justified to exterminate people like you. A man who acted on his beliefs, who murdered Muggles and Muggle-Borns alike, and who assisted in their torture and slaughter. A man who took advantage of you, who branded his mark on your flesh immediately after you opened your heart to me, hoping for consolation for your father’s suicide. A man who humiliated you in front of your peers. I could go on and on. I am not a good man.” he said, sternly. He needed her to move on, to realize that she was making a mistake by wanting him.

He was telling the truth, he was absolving his sins, he was realizing the situation and determining how he could solve this dilemma. Perhaps he was just speaking to himself within a dream, though there was a possibility that their dreams were… no, that is the stuff of fiction. How did his subconscious make up the bit about her stealing a photo of him? _That’s awfully contrived, Severus..._

She responded to his words, thinking deeply about them, understanding them. She had been invited into a new world when she arrived at Hogwarts. Back in Blacksfield, she had been feeling like a vagrant wanderer, not entirely sure of who she was and who she wanted to be. She knew she wasn’t like other people, she knew that she possessed strange and inexplicable qualities. She could have gone to Hogwarts when she was eleven. She could have been the token scholarship kid earlier. Why was she brought here? Why did her life feel like a series of meaningless encounters defined by forces entirely out of her control? It was a curse to understand these forces, to be intimate with them, but to not have the power to change them in any way. Her time at Hogwarts had been marked with great pain, but with great revelation. Although she was fairly certain this was a dream, she knew well her next course of action.

She looked back at Severus, whose eyes were wide, searching hers for something, anything, to grasp onto. She took a deep breath, slowly bringing her hands up to her thighs, taking the bottom hem of her nightgown in between two fingers and and pulling it up and over her head, tossing it down onto the floor.

 

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit's real heavy. Sorry about that for anyone uncomfortable or put off. Things just had to happen. I don't really have anything else to say about this.
> 
> ~~~
> 
> 1\. I Always Hang Myself With The Same Rope: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NHa2D__CHTI
> 
> 2\. Love Voodoo (Duran Duran): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DYQMSnOTZ3s
> 
> 3\. Temptation (New Order): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xxDv_RTdLQo
> 
> This chapter is incredibly angsty. Also very heavy.
> 
> FULL SPOTIFY PLAYLIST: https://open.spotify.com/user/mooniemoe/playlist/1BftWaSHedV8PHnvuicKXB?si=3UvFokaGRpecbQjLPHbqdw


	14. O, The Story of Sectumsempra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so MEGA WARNING here. This chapter is basically just suicidal ideation, self harm behaviours, and really rough, and legitimately abusive sex. This chapter is VERY heavy and if you're uncomfortable with this, it's not for you. It's essential to the further development of the following chapters (which are like 70% done as of now). 
> 
> Anyway, here's the summary:
> 
> 1\. Severus relives the creation of 'Sectumsempra'
> 
> 2\. Severus and Albany live in each other's dreams, and discover their own capacity for hate and cruelty.

 

***

 

Severus was reading book after book on spell creation. He had made up a few spells already, such as _levicorpus_ , which James Potter had used on him the year before on that Horrible Day, as well as _muffliato_ , and then there was that hilarious toenail growing one and the one that stuck your tongue to the roof of your mouth. _That was a good one._ Severus was always proud of his creativity, but the artist, after all, is never accredited, much less appreciated, until they are in the grave.

Severus was plotting his own death. It would be soon, he promised himself. Soon he could muster up the courage and end his own life, ridding the world of his presence. He wondered who would be concerned, or who would be happy he was gone. Would the Marauders finally come around and admit their shortcomings? Would they laugh? Would they be happy? Would they be prosecuted as the main motivators? What would his father do? What would they do to his father? No, his father wouldn’t even care. No one would care.

The spells spread like wildfire around the castle after his textbook was stolen by a couple of Slytherins in the common room when he fell asleep studying. Everyone knew he was obsessively scribbling in the textbook of his most successful class, and everyone wanted to know what he had written. They had returned it just where it was, though they left it open on the wrong page and when he woke up he was quick to realize that it was too late. The Marauders loved his spells, though they would later learn that Severus was their inventor and would thusly take as many opportunities as possible to torture him with his own damn spells.

He had been growing increasingly uncomfortable with his feelings, with his compulsions, with his dark thoughts. Sure, he had loved Lily ever since they were children. It was only recently did he look at the curve of her hip through her uniform, the occasional peek of a bra strap, and the breasts that seemed to appear overnight. He would grow captivated by their shadows and their outline before he would realize he was staring and look away, or until Lily and one of her friends noticed. The latter was far more humiliating.

Joseph Mulciber, a fellow Slytherin who he wouldn’t even call a friend, despite the fact that they always sat together at meals, tried to give him snogging tips one day. He also gave Severus some of the first pornographic wizarding magazines he ever saw, and he was absolutely shocked to actually see a moving image of a naked woman for the first time, aside from in paintings, of course. These women were clad in lingerie, revealing their breasts and cunts, looking at _you_ , propositioning _you_.

Mulciber, who was also his roommate for his fifth year, and who learned much from Severus about the dark arts, taught Severus, in turn, how to jerk off. It had been a revelation, and admittedly a bit homoerotic. Severus had never before experienced such a wash of pleasure, of release, of freedom. Although it was destressing in the moment, it only made his desires worsen.

He was well aware that he was an ugly sonofabitch. That had been made clear by dozens of his classmates throughout the years. However, he soon developed quite an eye for the girls in his year. He would never act on it, clearly, but he soon realized that he had better learn how not to stare, and learn it quickly. He had the capacity for lust, sure, but his heart still belonged to Lily Evans, a girl who hated his guts for betraying her trust and ruining their friendship. He was hoping there was a chance he could win her back, impress her, or something of the sort.

Mulciber advised him that she was a waste of his time, and he was right to call her a _mudblood_ , but Severus wasn’t convinced. He wanted to prove himself, to show off his great _mind_. He wanted to prove that he was powerful, and he had the capacity to be fierce and violent. He held no qualms about who suffered because of his power. He wanted her to know that.

He wanted to create a new spell that was far more impressive than his others. He wanted one which he could, one day, use on James Potter and his silly little Marauders once they graduated. Sure, he may have been ‘in debt’ to James for saving his life that one night back in the Shrieking Shack, but still he considered it irrelevant when he was too far along in blood lust to think straight. He had been using a knife on his wrists, his legs, his stomach. He thought something else would be a bit more efficient. He wished to use the wand as a sworn, inflicting the curse of scarring on its victim. The thought of it was enough for him to scowl devilishly, although his signature snarl was still in the works.

He had found himself one of the many secret rooms in the castle. This room he used quite frequently to create his spells, as he needed privacy and all the time in the world to perfect his creation to its completion. He knew that creating a severing charm whose curse was painful scar tissue and excessively bleeding was going to prove difficult. However, he had always used himself as a practice dummy, and he considered this to be not so far from what had become his filthy little habit.

The way to create a spell was to smother your wand with your intention, to bind it to a word, to not let it cave under the pressure of your intention. To a create a spell was to be washed and bathed in its sentiment, its _intention_ , your envisionment of its physical manifestation.

He wanted blood. Lots of it. He wanted pain. His name was _Severus_ for a reason, he supposed. It was a stupid name, he had been made well aware of that over the years. He hated his father for insisting on naming him that, with his silly obsession with saints and Rome. His name was such an easy target for ridicule. _Snivellus._ People generally assumed that he was a dark little evil morose brat, what, with a name like that? _Severus motherfucking Snape._

If they wanted him to be stern, oh, he would be. He would sever, he would maim, he would glare his beady black eyes, oily hair, and ugly nose in the face of his enemy and strike them down, relishing in their destruction, breathing in their pleas for help or their piteous moans for mercy.

Thus, _sectumsempra_ was born. He would be whoever they wanted him to be. He was more than clever little party tricks like _levicorpus_ up his long, black sleeves.

He had been practicing on dummies for quite some time, and found the result satisfactory, despite the fact that he couldn’t see any blood. He stood there, in an empty room all alone. He needed to see the blood.

Impulsively, he lifted up his sleeve, revealing his assemblage of self-harm marks, cigarette burns, and other old lacerations. He cast the spell. The bleeding was alarming. He panicked, trying out as many healing spells as he could. His intention was too malevolent, it seemed. He had created a rather powerful curse.

He found a solution. He cut himself again. And again. And again. It had initially been in the name of testing the spell, but he found himself addicted to the pain, to the quick release, to the brutality of it. There was a pool of blood forming on the floor of his secret little room.

His father had sliced his arm with a knife once when was fourteen. This was no different, really. After he had left for Hogwarts, Eileen had lost the will to live. She was a body without a soul. She finally learned that she couldn’t protect her son anymore, and so she let him kill her.

Eileen was right. They both were a menace, but to Severus Snape most of all.

 

***

 

She sat on her knees before him, on his bed, in nothing but her panties, looking rather inquisitive, her face pensive and reflective, unphased by her nakedness.

“This isn’t real.” she said to him, practically propositioning him.

Severus came to a conclusion. He would live out his fantasy. He would do what he pleased, he would be as brutal as he wanted to this insolent little brat. He would take up this girl’s silly offer, and he would make her regret why she ever wanted him in the first place.

He sat up and wrapped her long hair around one fist before jerking her down into the bed, where he shifted positions so that he was on top of her. He decided that he would keep on his sleepwear, a black button up and some loose black slacks. She would immediately leave him if she were to see his naked body. He had never been intimate with anyone while he himself was naked or without his shirt on, at the very least.

“You wanted me, you say? You’re going to get what you want, the way _I_ want. Do you understand? Do you consent? If you say no, this ends, and I get to wake up. No consequences, as you mentioned earlier.” His voice was rough, strained. He was only barely restraining himself from taking her and fucking her into submission right then and there.

“Yes.” she said in a faint whisper with wide eyes. It was all he needed to hear.

He practically ripped his hard cock out from his slacks, and he saw her eyes immediately widen.

“Oh, Jesus…”

“What?” he grunted, slowly running his fist from the base to the tip, watching his foreskin retract and then cover his head, breathing in deeply, mentally preparing himself for the act. He had always been told he had an impressive manhood. He was self-conscious about many things, but his prick was certainly not one of them.

“I… Jonas wasn’t… quite as… well endowed?” she said, staring with intention at his cock grasped in his hand before sitting up, leaning towards it, looking up at him all the while.

“You’ll have to learn how to cope I’m afraid.” he snarled at her. She looked thoughtful for a moment before sitting up on her knees and assuming a more devilish and lustful look.

She smiled coyly before moving back his foreskin and running her tongue across the wetness of his slit, tickling his perineum with her lower lip. He bit down hard on his own lip to keep from embarrassing himself with a sudden surge of nearly irrepressible moans. She opened her mouth and slowly, teasingly, took him into her mouth, taking in as much as she could, which was only about two thirds of the way down his long shaft. She didn’t have the best gag reflex.

She lifted her hands, running her fingers and long fingernails through his pubic hair, tickling his balls, weighing them in her hands, before grasping the base of his cock with both, squeezing softly. She began to stroke his shaft, as she bobbed up and down his hard length, breathing in and out through her nose, going faster and faster, accumulating spit as she took him deep into her mouth, occasionally gagging a bit but continuing on as best she could.

He wrapped her hair around his fist again, pulling her head deep onto his member. Her eyes began to water, she was seeing spots, she could barely breathe. He saw her face going red, and he began to thrust, his body undulating at a steady slow rhythm before going harder and harder and harder in tune with the tempo with which he jerked her head, before he came, taking them both my surprise.

She gagged on his cum, as she hadn’t expected it so soon. He wrenched her mouth off his softening dick, shoving her limp body back down onto the bed roughly, watching as a trickle of ejaculate flowed from her mouth, down her trembling lip, and onto the cavern between her full breasts.

She looked up at him like a puppy dog, hesitantly swallowing the remainder of his cum left in her mouth and wiping some off her face with the back of her hand. Seeing her laying there, hair wild, tangled, in every direction, her more mature panties on full display, _not those purple things again,_ her legs spread obscenely wide, her chest flushed, her heavy breathing, sent shudders down Severus’s spine.

He kissed her mouth deeply, tasting his own ejaculate and deciding perhaps it was best to kiss elsewhere. He brushed his lips across the painful-looking marks on her neck he had left, down to her breasts, which he licked and sucked reverently before peppering kisses down her bellybutton to the top of her panties, which he promptly wrenched off, tossing them dejectedly onto the floor, taking in her thatch of trimmed brownish-blonde pubic hair. He ran his fingers through it, moving his way down to her vulva, where he spread her lips and gently fingered her anus in tandem. She jumped and yelped when he had touched her there; it would appear she had never attempted such a thing before. He found himself grinning wickedly. For another time, perhaps.

She had a very pretty pussy indeed, he thought to himself, suddenly deciding to take his forefinger and jam it deep inside, making her buck and gasp. She tried to sit up to get a look at what he was doing, but he pressed one large hand to her face, shoving her back down supine.

Before she could prepare herself, he had three fingers up to his knuckle in her pussy, which was indeed telling, given the length of his fingers. She shrieked, but he pulled himself up her body and bit down on her lips to silence her, before drawing his mouth down once more and taking one of her nipples in between his teeth and pulling sharply, while thrusting his fingers in and out of her tight, wet cunt.

He was becoming sloppy, his fingernails scraping her walls, causing her to scream in a perverse mixture of pain and pleasure. He pulled out his fingers, latching his mouth onto her wet pussy, sucking her clitoris hard. She let out a primal shriek, her body began to shudder and flail wildly. The wretched girl painfully grabbed onto his hair, trying to pull him off and press him closer at the same time. He pressed his tongue in and out of her wet hole and lapped up her tangy juices while she shuddered through her aftershocks; soon he found himself fully hard again.

He grabbed her face in both hands and lined himself up at her slick entrance. She reached down and pumped his cock, spreading her legs wide, before he grasped one strong hand around her throat. She had not been expecting his, much less how tight his grip was. She was even more surprised when he entered her quite suddenly, thrusting in shallowly with only his sensitive head at first to ‘test the waters’, shall we say, letting his head practically vibrate around her shuddering, warm, wet cunt. She felt his fingernails scratch down her stomach, hard enough to break the skin. And so it did.

“Oh my God…” she said in a half-moan, half-shriek, looking down at the scratch marks on her stomach, which were bleeding slightly.

“Do you want me to fuck you harder, brat?” he growled, pressing his face up to hers, teeth bared as though he were some kind of animal, taking in her fear and the light sweat on her forehead.

“I… I…”

“Answer.”

“Yes.”

“You have put this on yourself, _mudblood_.” he said, thrusting deeply twice, before she moaned and frowned up at him.

“What the hell did you say to me?” she said. He needed to discipline her, she was growing obstinate.

“You wanted this.” he said, bending down and biting her lower lip before invading her mouth with his tongue. He didn’t even care anymore that he was tasting himself.

He began to thrust deep into her, faster and faster, harder and harder, pounding against her cervix, stretching her, her pussy enveloping his cock as though it had been made for him. He reached out and took her throat once more, running his teeth against her breasts and belly, all while tightening his grip on her throat more and more with each thrust.

The bed was shaking back and forth and slamming against the wall. She was blacking out at this point, and he pulled out of her very suddenly, leaving her pussy contracting around nothing. He released the chokehold to lift her limp body and toss her over onto her stomach, where he kneaded her plump asscheeks before pumping himself again, unabashedly moaning his pleasure, his voice’s reaction to such intense physiological stimulation. He had never had sex like this before, he thought to himself. He decided now that he was going to let himself be vocal.

“You’ve been a good little _slut_.” he growled, letting out a loud moan.

“I… Why…” she mumbled, her voice sounding a bit hurt or insulted.

She was lifting herself up on shaking arms, too weak and oversexed to move. The color had returned to her face. She turned around so that she could look Severus in the eyes for a moment, asking him a silent question, before propping herself up onto her knees, burying her face into the soft pillow marked by his scent, spreading her legs wide, putting her dripping cunt on full display. She was making a spectacle of herself at this point.

“Are you _begging_ for it, Miss Newson?” he asked, licking his lips and looked down at her delicate, ripe little body. “You’re practically dripping. Here you are, putting your little snatch on display. Are you going to be my hole to fuck, _Albany_?”

“No…” She didn’t want to be objectified.

“No? Do you care to elaborate, Miss Newson?”

“Albany.” she said, wincing when he jerked her head upwards suddenly by her hair again, putting a painful bend into her neck. “I want you to fuck me. I like to hear the sound of your voice, I find it incredibly sexy. Is that enough? Is that what you want?” He responded to her statement by biting her shoulder as hard as she could.

“Shit!” she yelped. “I thought you wanted to fuck me into oblivion, Severus?”

He had other plans. The fucking could wait a bit longer. He brought his hand down hard across her ass, and she winced, burying her face into the pillow, her plump bum turning near-cherry red. He hit her again. And again. And again. He saw black and blue, not realizing how long he had been beating her, and noticed how she had been crying and breathing in and out rapidly, as though she was trying to regain control of her body.

“Please…” she said, crying into the pillow. “Fuck me. Just finish.”

“Doesn’t this pretty little girl like to listen to the sound of my voice?” he whispered, licking her before nibbling it.

“Yes. I’m so close, Severus. I’m so…”

“You need another orgasm ripped out of you, I assume?”

“Please. Please fuck me. Please fill me. Please…” She was growing desperate at this point. Her cunt felt overridden with pleasure and pain, its walls were nearly swollen shut, but still craving to be filled nonetheless.

“If you insist, Miss Newson.”

“Albany.”

“Yes, _Albany_ . You’re still just as insufferable when you’re being fucked into submission in my own wet dream. If you want to be my fantasy, you will have to behave. I’ve made many women _behave_ in the past, and you’re not so special. Spread yourself, slut.” he said, taking her by the cheeks and forcefully spreading her wide. She squeaked in pain due to his hands contact the bruised parts of her bum, but he didn’t seem to care much.

“You have a very pretty pussy, slut. I love to see my marks all over your little ripe body. I must say, I have always… enjoyed… women with fuller breasts and a delectable ass like yours. I could eat you for days, I could put you in a portrait and hang it on my wall.” he moaned, running his hands gently across the curves of her body, reaching underneath to squeeze both of her breasts.

“Jonas never said things like that. I’ve never… this is so new.” she said into his pillow, almost in a whisper.

“Do you want my cock? Have I been teasing you enough?”

“Please…”

He took her by the hips and lined himself up, taking in the curve of her pale back, the way her hips melded into the narrowed slope her waist, her tense shoulder blades, her flushed cheeks lightly brushed with freckles only just visible. Her ass had turned quite blue and black from his beating. He didn’t care. This was his dream.

“Brace yourself.” he growled, before beginning to thrust into her as hard as he possibly could. He had never before fucked with as much force as he did, with as much desire to control and conquer. Fuck morality. Fuck consequences. There were none, right? This was just a dream.

She wailed like a banshee, and he wrapped his hand over her mouth before grabbing onto her throat again, taking his free hand to scratch his fingernails with all his might down her back, once again breaking the skin, causing lacerations to erupt all over; she was now drenched in sweat. He was slamming her cervix so aggressively that she was seeing spots, overwhelmed by the pain and in shock because of the pleasure.

His cock was sloshing against her walls as she was becoming wetter and wetter. She was dripping down the backs of her thighs and onto his starched white bed sheets. Her pussy was clamping down hard on his cock, sending shudders up his spine, into his head, and then back down to his balls. Everything was amplified. Every sensation was heightened. It felt as though he had never existed anywhere else except in this present moment, that he was the king of some great unnamed kingdom, that he was akin to God.

He rammed in harder and harder, slamming her cervix brutally, before her pussy clamped down hard around him and she began to choke and sputter, his hand still wrapped tightly around her throat. He pulled out, let go of his hold on her neck, and watched her body spasm, her come spilling down the back of her thighs. She was exploding with ecstasy. This was, by far, the most intense orgasm she ever had. Well, it was only her third.

Trembles wracked her body, she had entirely lost control. Her teeth were shuddering, her limbs spazzed, flailing around wildly like some kind of perverse sexually deviant wind-up toy.

She was riddled with pleasure. She didn’t quite understand why she was experiencing such pleasure at such degradation. She didn’t quite know where this ‘mudblood’ and ‘whore’ talk was even coming from. Once the aftershocks of her orgasm wore off, she began to cough, heaving and heaving, before shoving her face down into her pillow, her cunt remaining on display. She wondered what kind of sexual encounters he had in the past as a Death Eater, and even the thought made her feel nauseous. He needed to finish. He had quite the stamina, she noted.

He yanked her head up by her obnoxiously long hair, creating a curve in her spine which was highly uncomfortable, before pounding into her again, only needing a few hard and deep thrusts before he came hard in her pussy. He filled her deeply with his seed, splashing her walls, growling loudly like some kind of uninhibited primal creature. She felt invincible having been filled up like that, having used her power to take something away from someone else. It truly was an almost inexplicable feeling.

He softened and slid out of her, shoving her body back down towards the bed rough, pretending as though he didn’t want to scoop her into his arms and adorn her torso with soft kisses as a plea for forgiveness.

“Is this what you wanted? Is it what you imagined?” he said between pants, brushing his hair back from his face and wiping his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand.

“I… I don’t know.” she said, turning over onto her back, still in shock from her stellar orgasm and the physical and verbal abuse that she had not at all expected.

_What the hell did he mean?_

“Look at me.” he snarled, seeing as her eyes were fluttering closed.

He took her again by the throat and looked deep into her eyes, searching for something. She felt the tickle of occlumency, and before she knew it, she had been slapped hard across the face. Then on the other cheek. Then again. Then he was choking her, using his hold around her throat to lift her up into a sitting position. Her hands began to claw at his, trying to free herself.

“What... are you... doing?” she sputtered, barely catching her breath.

“I am punishing you for being such a little tease, tempting me, a grown man, your _professor_ , your _superior_ . I gave you a degredatory spanking, I took your throat in my hands, your life rested within my cold grip, all because you’re a filthy little tease with a filthy little quim… gagging for it from an ugly, mean man.” he said, releasing his hold around her throat and proceeding to slap her hard across the face again. “A girl like you needs _punishment_.”

“What?” she stuttered, her eyes growing teary as she put her hand up to her cheek. “I said what I felt. I offered you consolation and love… We talked… You fucked me as hard as you could.” She began to rub the bruises around her throat, wincing as her fingernails accidentally brushed over the bite mark on her neck.

“I am not a good man. You have me as I am.” he said.

He ran his nails down the lacerations on her stomach, opening wounds further, causing her to wince, before looking down at her cunt, marked by his cum.

“I have asked your permission. You wanted to be fucked into submission, didn’t you? It may contradict your gregarious little personality, but you wanted this. You are a filthy little whore. You’re just like all the _mudblood_ whores my friends and I would share.” He sat up again, having tucked away his cock in his slacks, craving the upper hand, planning to use her nudity for his bidding.

“What more could you want with me? Why are you doing this to me, Severus?” she said, almost piteously, before standing up on the bed and looking down to face him, hair wild, eyes cold. “You’re just like your father, after all!”

His world froze. It began to spin. She was leaning down now onto the bed, onto his lap, forcing him to look deep into her eyes, stormy grey and daring him to seek a revelation. She sat down, draping her arms over his shoulders, pressing her upturned nose against his hooked one, assuming an admittedly terrifying, powerful voice.

“You wouldn’t have stopped until you killed me, would you, Severus? We are intimate, and then I am nothing more than a _mudblood_ whore. Would you have sold me off to Fenrir Greyback, Severus? Would you have fucked me and choked me until I died? Would you have still fucked my corpse? Because I deserve that? You’re a piece of shit. Your father is finally proud of you, Severus. You’ve grown up to be just like him.” She knew it wasn’t hard for a submissive to get the upper hand. They were always underestimated.

“I… I…” he said, at a total loss for words.

She had completely broken him, dismantled him. In a fit of something entirely out of his control, his world became slow-motion, he blacked out, opening his eyes to see Albany sobbing, holding her left eye with her hands.

“Albany!” he cried out, reaching to embrace her. She rolled into a fetal position, holding up one hand to keep him away from her.

“Why the fuck would you do that, Severus? I AM NOT EILEEN!” she screamed, sobbing uncontrollably, which hurt her bad eye like hell. “You need to learn to never hit a woman like this, Severus. How. Dare. You.” She sat up, facing him with renewed courage. Her eye was black-and-blue and swelling slightly, the grey orb that existed there burning a hole through him, breaking his conscious, causing panic.

“I… I don’t know… I am so _sorry…_ ”

He had never done anything like this as a Death Eater. He was far more gentle by comparison. Why was he like this? When Lily died, he became celibate. Perhaps this was the aftermath of remorse, of mourning. He was a monster. He began to plan his suicide again. His students and the faculty certainly wouldn’t miss him.

“You have left your mark on me.” she muttered, surveying her body. New bruises had appeared on her arms and legs, and, all of a sudden, both eyes became soft, and forgiving. Just like his mother’s had. “I know you have a Mark or two yourself. I’ve done my research.” She pointed to her neck. “Perhaps this will scar. I hope it does. I want the memory. I want you to look at this and to see what you’ve done, how you’ve claimed a girl on the cusp of womanhood, how you’ve broken rules and acted impulsively. I want you to remember. What do you think, Severus?”

“I don’t know what to do…” he muttered. “I… I acted the way I always had, if not worse. If these are my natural impulses, my natural inclinations… then I don’t deserve to live.”

She was silent for a moment, weighing her options.

“I am a forgiving _being_ , Severus. You deserve to live. You have a future, I have seen it, I have watched it, I have lived it and breathed it.”

“That doesn’t matter. When I wake up, I will kill myself. I have to. It’s time. What is there left to live for?” He was being as honest as ever.

“No, Severus, please don’t say…”

“But it’s true!” he cried, running his hands slowly over her various bite marks, bruises, and scrapes, and also over her sensitive black eye. His Dark Mark began to burn, which was certainly a dangerous sign, though he found himself ignoring it, too worried in the marks he left on his nubile young woman. He reached down, touching her gently, revering in the goosebumps erupting on her smooth skin, and gently touched her abused pussy, causing her to buck towards the contact, desiring friction. He realized that she was still incredibly wet.

“Why do you want this?” He leaned up and kissed her gently, as a lover might have done.

She quickly drew away.

“Well, why do you? Why should you? Why have you let yourself…” she responded, hardly able to formulate sentences. “I think it’s because I hate myself so much.”

“You’re taking all the words out from my head. Again.”

“Maybe you’re more predictable than you thought.” she said, leaning forward and biting his lip slowly, letting her body fall into his, taking him by his nightshirt and pulling him down onto his own bed, onto his own pillow. She rolled over on top of him, sprawling her body against his, letting him put his hand on the small of her battered back and her battered ass.

“Don’t move. Look up at the ceiling. I used to do that as a child to help me fall asleep.”

“I did, too.” he replied.

 

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thing is, I have very complicated feelings about Snape. On one hand, I am mega attracted to him myself (why else would I write this?), but I know for a fact that he is passionate, obsessive, poor-tempered, and rather uninhibited when dealing with sensitive emotions regarding love, sex, and intimacy. There is much uncertainty over whether he would be a good partner. On one hand, he loves, and he loves deeply. On the other hand, that love seems to be fueled my lust, mostly due to his complicated relationship with his body and appearance.
> 
> Albany, as a character, generally hates herself and feels like she is never good enough. She is fairly attractive, and manipulates other people with her looks for sexual, emotional, and intellectual purposes. She doesn't quite have an identity yet, and though she is wicked smart (she graduated Muggle secondary school at 16, for Christ's sake), she doesn't believe in herself one bit. She feels like an outsider, and, therefore, clings to other outsiders. She does have more of a capacity to love than one would think, though her niche is platonic love rather than romantic, which she struggles with greatly. This girl just has really bad luck. 
> 
> Severus, knowing that this is a 'dream', lives out what he would be like as his father. Does this mean he would be like this in his waking life? Probably not.
> 
> The title is in reference to one book in particular. How I know about it is quite the story in itself.
> 
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Story_of_O
> 
> Anyways, that's all. Here's some thematic tunes.
> 
> 1\. Pleasure Victim (Berlin): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1_ezqF0vxqo
> 
> 2\. #1 Crush (Garbage): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PX7LLua5NCM
> 
> 3\. Hitler In My Heart (Anthony and the Johnsons): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K-SOlVbflEY
> 
> And also, the chapter title reference 'The Story of O', one of the first erotic novels ever written. BDSM stuff. So there.
> 
> Btw, this is the one and only rough sex scenes I'm going to write. They're a bit too intense and charged for me to ever attempt to write again.
> 
> SPOTIFY PLAYLIST: https://open.spotify.com/user/mooniemoe/playlist/1BftWaSHedV8PHnvuicKXB?si=eo0_u65KS52TpZfHkUBW1w


	15. He Prays, She Preys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yay! A much calmer chapter.
> 
> Albany and Severus wake up from a wild dream and make some strange discoveries, Trelawney gives Albany a strange prediction, Quirrell asks Albany for some unconventional advice, Belle is threatened, and Albany tells Andrea what happened the past few days and nights.

 

***

 

Albany woke up in a sweat, grunting nervously as she shot up in her bed, hoping that she didn’t wake up Fae. Her body was in complete pain. She had felt everything in that dream as though it had been real. Reality was a blur this morning. Her dream had felt so damn _real_ , and she was sure her physical symptoms would wear off as she continued her morning interacting with friends and preparing for classes, leaving her dream state over time.

She ran her hands across her forehead and discovered that she was drenched in sweat. Her pussy was practically soaked, and her nightgown had been soiled. It was a complete mess. She felt embarrassed remembering that the house elves would be doing her laundry and they would see this disaster. Maybe they were used to it? What, working in a school filled with horny teenagers… Did house elves even know to judge? Did they even have the capacity for gossip? Who knows.

She reminded herself to head to the library after classes and look up a spell that could clean her clothes. She always liked to spare house elves some work, as she considered their servitude to be somewhat telling of the wizard world which she strongly critiqued. Fortunately she had nothing until Divination at 1pm, and then Muggles Studies at 3pm. She thanked God, or whatever Supreme Being was up above, that she didn’t have potions.

She knew she had a very fucked up subconscious to ever come up with something like that. Why did she naïvely assume that all men wanted her? She knew this wasn’t true, she knew that men had preferences. Why was it that she was consumed in this lustful desire for a man, a man who was her superior and who she shouldn’t even be considering as a suitable sexual partner?

She had acted very impulsively. She was caught up in the torturing emotions of her father’s death, the uncertainty about her mother’s mental state, the stress of her upcoming O.W.L.s and the humiliation she felt for being so unabashedly stupid and drinking in excess. She was seeking degradation, she was seeking pain. Perhaps this was triggered by… She had snogged Severus Snape. She had pressed herself up against… his erection. She had dry-humped her professor after getting drunk in a bar, drinking a keratin potion. She had… let him clip her toenails and fingernails?

_What the fuck happened last night?_

She got out of bed and headed towards the standing mirror, and nearly shrieked in surprise. Her arms and legs had sprouted a series of bruises. Glancing over at Fae to make sure she was asleep, she slowly began to lift up her nightgown before realizing that her underwear had disappeared. She panicked, dropping down her nightgown, searching her bed and the floor around it desperately. She began to panic, reaching into her drawer and putting on another pair for the time being.

She returned to the full-length mirror and slowly lifted her nightgown over her head, and was to be absolutely shocked at what she saw. She also glanced at her face, which felt sensitive and swollen on the left side.

_Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no…_

She began to hyperventilate, staring at her collection of bruises and scratches. Now that she realized they were there, she realized how much they were really throbbing. She started to cry, feeling deeply ashamed at what she was, what she had done. Was it real? Was this all some kind of hallucination? What was a dream and what was real? How was that possible?

She headed straight for the showers, thankfully no one else was there, and turned on the scalding water and let it all down her hair, sore back and eye and even sorer pussy. Her cunt was practically throbbing. It hurt to stand, much less walk. She knew she would be hobbling around to her classes all day.

It never hurt like this with Jonas. Jonas had been into different positions, some light choking and spanking, and that was really it. He seemed to think he was some sort of all-powerful sexual deviant. If only he had a basis for comparison.

_Albany, why did you think that this was acceptable? You will be expelled. He will lose his position. That aside, you have proven to be nothing more than an insufferable whore. You ruined your life, you ruined everything for your family and those around you. You bring hate and destruction wherever you go._

Albany scrubbed her body gently, winching at the sensitive spots, taking a long time to wash her impossibly long hair. She returned to her room, got dressed slowly, meticulously. Fae had just started to wake up.

“What the fuck happened to your hair? What happened to your neck? OH MY GOD, YOUR EYE!” Fae gasped, seeming genuinely concerned for her. That was a first.

“It’s nothing.” Albany mumbled, picking up her wand while looking in the mirror and casting a blemish concealment charm that Belle had taught her.

“Was that from… Belle? Is that who you’re snogging now? And no, I don’t judge.”

“Yeah.”

Fae didn’t believe that for a second. No petite, sweet Hufflepuff’s mouth was that big, literally or figuratively, nor did they ever have the intention of using it to bite on someone’s fucking neck. That bite could’ve very well come from a number of magical creatures, but Fae wasn’t interested enough to learn which one.

“Who the fuck punched you in the face?” Fae asked.

“I tripped.” Albany replied blankly.

Albany was unsure of what to do with her hair, but, for some reason, she appreciated the spectacle of it. She braided two strands in the front and joined them in the back. She pulled out a few baby hairs and some shorter strands to make it all look a bit more natural. She applied makeup. She wanted to look pretty. She needed to. She needed to look like she was in control, that all of this was intentional, that she knew what she was doing. In fact, everything about the last 24 hours scared the shit out of her.

It was the last day of classes before the O.W.L.s exam week started. After that, it would all be over. One more weekend left until Albany, Andrea, Belle and Mpho took the Hogwarts Express together back home. Well, Albany’s own home was uncertain. She had no way to contact her mother, and she certainly burned bridges when she turned that Muggle bartender into a vegetable.

She was putting on her tie when she paused for a moment, thinking of a single on vinyl that she thought reminded her of Severus. When Fae wasn’t looking, she stalked over to her dresser where she looked at the picture of a young, dejected Severus. She didn’t know if he would have let her in at that age, or what their lives would be like had they been in Slytherin together. Would he have treated her the same?

She couldn’t quite understand why he had beat her. Was it for his pleasure, or for hers? She did enjoy it, a bit, though it did become somewhat excessive. The man had many demons, no one could deny that.

She waited until Fae left the room for breakfast before she looked through her trunk, pulling out a record player her father gave her, and the single. It was from 1983, by a band her mother and father never particularly liked. Soft Cell. She put it on, and slowly lay down on her bed, making sure not to put weight on any painful pressure points.

 

_Martin is a boy with problems, Martin has a family history._

_Martin has too many nightmares, he lives in a fantasy._

_There's a danger that he'll take too far, his morbid curiosity._

_He's seen too many creepy films, he's read too many books._

_Martin sleeps with all the lights on, Martin's seen too many looks._

_He lives out a strange obsession, tries hard to resist._

_But Martin needs his strange obsession, to exist._

_He's far too pale and far too frail to be a normal boy._

_There's something shining in his eyes, The things he'd like to say._

_Martin had a lot to live down, growing up in a mining town._

_Torches burning in the trees, the shivering lust of blood._

_He's the star of many horror movies, but deep inside he's good._

_There's an illness flowing through him that's there all the time,_

_And though he watches and he waits, he knows he's not to blame._

_The face at the window, the hand under the bed._

_Martin has hallucinations, dreams that he's dead._

_He finds the hunger's at its worst when he's in bed._

_He's finding hard to keep control, He knows it won't be long,_

_And his tongue rolls over his dry lips, and the voice lingers on…_

 

Replace ‘Martin’ with ‘Severus’ and you’ve got a real banger, she mused to herself. She also found it interesting that Martin was her own father’s name. _Martin Blomqvist Newson_. Huh.

She took the needle off the record, and laid back down on her bed, not really feeling up for going to breakfast. She lay there, moping around in her own pain, dreading her O.W.L.s, thinking of sweet memories with her father, wondering how her mother was doing, thinking about how she couldn’t afford an owl to send them any letters, and wondering whether she had really been dreaming.

Perhaps it was possible that something inexplicable, something to do with their combined magic, had taken place. It was really too hard to tell. She would have to speak to him, but she knew that was impossible. She wouldn’t be going to detention tonight. She knew that he wouldn’t want to see her, to see the garish mark he left on her neck and the worse one on her eye, resembling the bite of some kind of animal. She was practically doing him a favor.

 

***

 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Severus moaned, tossing off his duvet and seeing the splattering of cum covering his abdomen, standing out just enough against his white sheets. He was absolutely humiliated, and completely alone. “You are a fucking pervert, Sev.” he said to himself, albeit out loud. He suddenly remembered his vow to kill himself this morning, but he still needed to teach. Such thoughts were compulsive. He thought he had learned to ignore them years ago.

He felt something brush up against his hand, and realized that it was a strand of impossibly long golden hair. He gasped, and jerked up into a sitting position, looking around the bed rapidly. There were other hairs in between the sheets there with him. He threw himself out of the bed before realizing he was standing on a pair of white lace panties. He practically shrieked, picking up the thing and shoving it in his drawers, hoping to God the house elves wouldn’t go spelunking in there.

He panicked, pulling frantically at his hair, pacing back and forth. He needed his soiled slacks dealt with immediately, as well as his sheets, which had also become incredibly sweaty, almost to the point that only two bodies could have accumulated... How did he even go to sleep on these, given that they’re so filthy? He shuddered. He had always prided himself on a clean living quarters given his upbringing in the filthy mining town of Cokeworth.

With a swish of his wand, his things were in order and his bedding and clothing was clean. He headed to his wardrobe, which was almost comically comprised of multiples of the same attire, and pulled out one at random (as though it mattered anyways), removing his nighttime wear, careful not to even peek at his body in the mirror. He let his nimble fingers meticulously button his collared white pressed shirt, moving onto his overcoat, and then to his flowing black robe. He quickly combed through his hair, which needed a wash though wouldn’t be getting one at the rate of his growing nerves. He threw open his door, and stalked down the hall up towards the Great Hall, which he entered with a very much put-on look of disdain, his lip curled in his signature sneer. He did not want to be spoken to outside of what was absolutely required on this day.

At breakfast, it immediately occurred to him that she was not there. Instead, he had to deal with Rakepick interrogating him as to why he didn’t get her position. Why did all the Defense Against the Dark Arts professors want to have this conversation with him? He hardly responded, uttering mere syllabic grunts before the git realized that he wasn’t interested in engaging in conversation with the likes of her. Severus always found curse-breakers to be insufferable, mainly because, at one point during his teenage years, he wanted so badly to be one. He never thought he would end up teaching here, in the place of his ridicule. Dumbledore had his balls in a vice grip, shall we say, and, considering his meagre salary, he had little options outside of breathing in potions fumes all day and accumulating grease in his hair.

Speaking of his hair, he had been thinking about this lately, he had been terrified to cut it ever since he was a child. It had grown long at first out of neglect, but then he just kept the style because he was terrified to see what else it could look like. He also knew it came in handy as a spy, considering that he could hide his face behind two dark veils. He had a very defined face, with sharp cheekbones and one obnoxious hooked nose which had been broken numerous times before he could have fixed it properly with magic because he hadn’t known how; he had been a child. It was easier to hide, although, sometimes when completely alone, he would pull back his hair to make creating potions a bit easier. It definitely helped him see what he was doing a lot better, though he would never, NEVER, let anyone see his hair pulled back. He always thought ponytails looked painfully stupid on men. It was actually a bit of a trend among the Death Eaters back in the day. He disassociated from those times as much as possible.

He began to wonder what would happen if he were to kill himself while at Hogwarts. Would this prove that he had been weak? He knew for a fact that his students, well, a portion of them anyways, would be relieved. Dumbledore might wave his fancy wand and reemploy Slughorn. He was sure that Lucius would shrug, that Narcissa might raise one eyebrow. He had no other people in his life. Both sets of grandparents were dead. Both of his parents were only children. He knew he would never marry, that he would never have children. It would be awful to pass down his mess of soiled genetics onto any offspring.

He had wanted this before. Badly. Right after the war, when he had pledged his allegiance to Albus Dumbledore, he found himself relieved, praying and praying that that part of his life was officially at an end. He was considering his own future, weighing his options. He believed that, now that he was free from Voldemort and a member of the Order of the Phoenix, he could reinvent his life. He had completely forgotten about his reputation, his image. No woman in their right mind would have ever wanted him.

Plus, Lily was dead.

He couldn’t imagine his life without her. He was sure he would win her back, eventually, that dealing with her and James’s baby would be secondary. He hoped she would come and realize the monster she had married.

He had found the Mirror of Erised a few weeks before his first year teaching. He saw her there with him, forgiveness in her eyes, clutching his shoulder. He cried, and she reached for his tears. He turned away suddenly, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, fighting the urge to smash this mirror into oblivion. He stormed out of the room where he had discovered it.

“Severus? Severus? Severus!” It was Pomona. “You’ve set fire to your food.”

He looked down and, indeed, he did. He still, as a refined wizard, had a tendency to let his wild magic get the better of them when he was compartmentalizing his rabid emotions. He cast a wordless _aguamenti_ , and then a drying charm for clear up the mess. He scowled at the professors giving him weird looks, got up, and stormed out of the Great Hall.

“Severus has been looking more agitated than normal lately.” Pomona remarked.

“I can see it… I can see it…” Trelawney began.

“See what, Sybill?” McGonagall said irritatedly.

“Severus is thinking about how much he hates the world around him, how he shuns it, how he traps himself deep within… the dungeons!”

“Yes, Sybill, I think we are all well aware of that.” McGonagall sighed, rolling her eyes before continuing to eat her breakfast.

 

***

 

Divination class was perfectly fine, mostly review for the O.W.L.s, which no one in class other than Albany seemed remotely interested in taking, much less seriously. Trelawney seemed to be more fascinated with Albany than usual, slowly scooting closer and closer to her throughout the lesson, in which they were analyzing ancient texts on the various interpretation of the subtle variations in thumbprints.

“Albany… Oh, Albany…” Trelawney began, beginning to massage the poor girl’s shoulders awkwardly. She flinched at the touch, as Trelawney’s hands kneaded at her bruises and at that horrible bite mark on her shoulder which had been stinging all day.

Andre Egwu, who she was sitting across from Albany on Trelawney’s red meditation pillows, raised his eyebrow and gave Albany a most sympathetic look.

“You are dreaming of family… oh, broken families…” Trelawney cooed, beginning to hum some indiscernible and rather pitchy melody. “The number three is important to you, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Yes, Professor. It’s actually my lucky number.” she replied, biting her lip to keep herself from shrieking in pain as Trelawney continued to knead her shoulders.

“Well, Albany, you are going to have three children.” Trelawney remarked, giving her a rough pinch on her cheeks before badly modern-dancing over to her other students to check on their progress.

“What. The. Bloody. Hell. Was. That?” Andre said, trying to suppress his laughs.

“I guess I’m just going to be one fertile bitch, Andre.” Albany remarked. He burst into laughter but slapped a hand on his mouth as soon as Trelawney whipped her head around to chastize whoever wasn’t taking the sacred art of Divination seriously. “I’ve never even thought about kids. That’s a pretty weird thing to tell a student.” Albany muttered.

“Well, it must have been pretty _potent_ , or else the mysterious Seer witch woman of the Divination tower wouldn’t have mentioned it to you.” Andre pointed out. “I’d say you keep your mind open about it.”

“How come?”

“I mean, you said three was your lucky number.”

“Yeah, I used to do everything in threes. Eating three of things, circling buildings three times before entering, only calling phone numbers whose total value added up to three…” She saw Andre’s face. “Yes, I am a bit crazy, we’ve established that. But I’ve stopped… most of those habits.”

“I think she wasn’t wrong when she was getting at your ‘three addiction’. I’m personally interested in, and I think you should be to, why there was an emphasis on family life. Has that been… and I’m sorry if this is personal… any issues within your family?”

“Don’t even get me started.” she said, returning to her book. Andre didn’t ask any more questions.

 

***

 

Muggles Studies was… Muggle Studies. However, Quirrell asked her to stay after class for a moment.

“Alb… ba … ba … ny… cou...could I sp… sp… speak with you?” the poor man mumbled. They were almost the same age, which felt weird for Albany, who felt as though they weren’t actually in an disequilibrium of power as teacher and student. Well, she had dealt with that phenomenon in other ways...

“Yes, what is it, Professor?” she asked.

Few people wanted to engage with Quirrell due to his speech impediment. She could see it at the faculty table during meals and around the halls. She felt it was her obligation to be there for the weaklings, for the outcasts.

“I… I… I wa… wa… was wondering if yo… yo… you… wanted to assi...sis...sis...t me in a little pro… pro… ject?”

Albany tilted her head, taking in the man before her. Balding, meek, little and thin, wrapped in overly large billowy robes, the poor thing looked like a neglected parrot specializing in tasteless mimicry.

“Of course, whatever you need. If this has anything to do with my Muggle parents and research, I’d have to let you know that there are extenuating circumstances regarding them at this present moment, and I can’t…”

“No. It’s no… no… not that.” he began, looking around to see if anything else was missing. “I… ha… ha… have heard that y… y… you are a S… S… Seer. Is that tr...true?”

“Yes, it is true. Not many people would like to admit it. I have seen some things come to pass. I don’t have anything else going for me…”

“N… n… no, Albany. I… I am planning to… go on… Sabbatical…” he said, twitching excitedly back and forth.

“Congratulations, sir. That is an exciting experience.” She didn’t really know what he was getting at.

“I… I… I want to… to… to… know how it’s g… g… going to go.”

“Are you saying that you would like for me to make a prediction for you?” she asked.

“Y… yes.” he said, holding out his palm. “Go… go ahead, will you?”

Albany tentatively opened her mind, taking his palm and looking into it deeply. She had done this before in Trelawney’s class, and mostly just gathered information about her fellow students’ lives and fears. People who were in Divination were quite scared of her, in fact, and avoided being her partner because she was ‘too good’ at seeing intimate pieces of them. Most people didn’t want to care about her talent in Divination, they were mostly interested in whatever piece of juicy gossip they could gleam from her; it usually was quite juicy, indeed.

Looking into his hand and then into his eyes, she took a step into the deep end of a mind of chaotic memories. Sadness, fear, timidity. Something darker.

“You had an interest in the Dark Arts for years, haven’t you, Professor?” she said, almost in a trance, a sinister smile on her lips. “Albania. I’ve always heard about Albania. It’s in the news, you know, that the forests there can make a man anew, they can make you… Huh. Hydra. You’re the hydra, then?”

“Wh… Wh… What do you mean, Miss… Miss… Newson?”

“I’m really not sure yet. I had a prophecy about the role of a hydra. Perhaps it has to do with identities, or with taking on challenges, or growing on a personal level?”

“Hydra… Oh… Oh… Okay.” Quirrell seemed to be quite confused. “Well… Should… Sh… Sh… Should I go on Sabbatical? Is it… is it… safe?”

“You’re young. There will be a creature who offers you youth and power, and you will take it. I cannot advise you as to whether it is right or wrong, but it will happen regardless. It is bound to be.” she said, wincing, feeling a tinge of warning coming on and growing in her abdomen. “It will be a dangerous creature you will confront in those woods… it will be cold… there will be snow everywhere… there will be silver blood in the snow and you will be commanded to drink of it. You will come here, you will… Leave in the year 1990. One year from now. The month of May. End of term.”

“Will I… Will I… Will I be…” he began, looking very embarrassed all of a sudden. “Be… enlightened?”

“You’re a Ravenclaw, correct?”

“Y… Y… yes.”

“My best friend is one too. You all crave Enlightenment. It’s part of your innate nature. You want… you want fear. You want power. You remind me of Severus.” she said, letting that last part slip and fighting the urge to slap a palm over her mouth.

“P… P… Professor Snape?” he asked, growing even more nervous, as though saying the man’s name would summon him at any moment.

“Yes. You both are after the same thing. You have much in common.” she said sternly. “You want people to fear you, Quirinus, you want them to be _loyal_ to you. You are weak, as of now. You want to find a way to change that. Your knowledge, your magic, your passion, is all there. You are very lonely.”

“Miss… Miss… Newson. Now, that is… that is… enough.”

_“You wanted nothing more than for your bitch of a mother to pay attention to you and to listen to your father who actually knew his way around this damn world, he told her this in the attic of your house way by the sea where your mother slapped him and he broke her pearl necklace without magic and you hurried downstairs and read your little book on dragons and charms both Muggle and magical and wondered which parent even had magic after all the hate your blood and love your blood and stay torn between two worlds just like the page that you tore one evening after she…”_

Before she could finish, Quirrell sealed her mouth shut with a wordless hex.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Miss… Miss Newson, but this is not… not… acceptable behaviour.” he said, looking as though his heart was breaking into a million pieces. Albany genuinely felt bad for him. He lifted the hex, his eyes tearing up in a silent and fearful apology.

“I’m sorry, Professor. I said too much. It was just a stream of consciousness, I apologize if I hurt you in any way.” she said, panic growing in her eyes. She felt so much pity for Quirrell in this moment, knowing full well, though she had not said this out loud, that he would succumb to his ego in the near future. “I really apologize.”

Quirrell paused for a moment in thought, before mumbling, “Twenty points to Slytherin.” and hightailing it the hell out of his own classroom.

_What the hell just happened here?_

 

***

 

Severus stalked through the halls of school on his way to the dungeons to teach one of his N.E.W.T. level classes. His nerves were running high today, though, of course, with his hardened exterior he was easily able to transform fear into Slytherin-esque cunning and capricious intent. He had taught a few classes but skipped lunch altogether, thinking that, perhaps, he would have seen her there. He planned to give himself enough time to prepare for the high chance he would be seeing her in the Great Hall at dinnertime.

He wondered if, perhaps, this was some elaborate prank being played on him. That was the most frightening thought of all, more than whether or not he had fucked the hell out of and then beaten one of his most intolerable and mediocre students. That would be completely and uttering humiliating. They had their detention scheduled, sure, but he wondered, if this indeed did happen, whether she would actually show up out of shame. _Shame._

Sure, there was the shame of being fucked by the slimiest professor in the school, but there was also shame in those marks he left on her, the shame of being labeled a slut by other students in her year, while she apparently already had a lover… or so he had heard. He had heard rumours from whispers in his classroom about Albany snogging Miss Park, a very shy and sensitive Hufflepuff girl whose existence he hadn’t even acknowledged until she was associated with Albany despite her being one of the few students in his sixth year N.E.W.T. level class. The two would sometimes walk down the halls arm in arm, playfully and lightly kissing each other’s cheeks and mouths. They would never know that he would see, that he would make a mental note of it whenever he saw it.

The thought of her father brushed his mind as he stood at the front of his classroom. He was supposed to be making sure any dunderheads didn’t permanently disfigure themselves or each other, much less damage his precious supplies and ingredients. What kind of man must he have been? He was a Muggle, yes, that was obvious. He was an alcoholic. He wasn’t abusive, however. There was a kindness he found in the man when he glimpsed through Albany’s memories those few times. He seemed to be a genuinely _lost_ person, although he seemed to understand that he was lost. Tobias Snape never would have understood how lost he was.

His father had been on his mind a lot more since he had opened his heart to this moronic brat, precious _Albany_. He couldn’t even begin to explain why, but he had started picking at every difference or commonality the two of them had. It was absolutely maddening to be confused by such thoughts. He never thought to deeply about the man. He certainly never had the emotional maturity to do so. He found himself distracted at meals, staring off into space with a look that concerned the faculty. Minerva had actually asked if he needed any ‘outside support’ when she saw him after the events of that morning’s meal.

_She’s a generous woman, but shut the fuck up, Minerva._

He hardly noticed when one student’s cauldron erupted in purple flames. This was supposed to be a bloody sixth year N.E.W.T. class, and yet it was still full of fools.

“Professor! Look!” Marcus Frederik Jones, a rather self-involved Gryffindor and one of the most notorious benign know-it-alls of his year, shouted, pointing over at the fumbling little Hufflepuff’s cauldron.

He sighed, feeling another migraine coming on, stalking towards said Hufflepuff before realizing that this was Belle Jia Park, the object of Albany’s fantasies in her waking life.

“I’m sorry, sir. I added too much of the hellebane…” she began, before Severus cut her off entirely.

“I will need to evacuate the class, now please, single file line, do not hit or hex each other in the process like a bunch of bumbling baboons…” he began. The class groaned and began their shuffle out of the classroom. Thankfully they were a bit more orderly and less noisy than other upperclassmen.

Belle started to stand up and join the rest of the class before Severus slammed one hand on her work table, glaring at her and commanding her attention.

“It has been said that you are in need of acing your N.E.W.T.s in potions if you are to go to a specialized wizarding pharmaceutical school. Is this correct?”

“Uh, yes, Professor.” she said, averting her eyes, shaking slightly.

“What are you hoping to gain from this? What are your aspirations?”

“Well, I do photography… and I want to formulate makeup products, so potions is a pretty useful class to take at the N.E.W.T. level…” She was absolutely confused as to why Snape would ever even talk to her to begin with. He never paid attention to her, despite her doing quite well in his class.

“Well, Miss Park, I want to tell you now. We. Don’t. Get. What. We. Want. Now, do we? We get soiled potions, cheated exams, and people who _abandon_ us, who use us, who treat us like _swine_. You, here and now, are doing nothing but digging your own grave. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?” he roared. Belle flinched, literally recoiling from him and standing up and heading towards the door.

“It isn’t safe to be in the class with the contamination, right, Professor?” she said, hurrying out of the door as fast as possible.

_Look at you. You’ve lost your shit again, and scared the poor girl shitless. But, to be fair, she did deserve a warning. Perhaps you’ve been successful in planting a little seed of Albany’s ‘infidelity’... into Park’s mind… Perhaps she will question their relationship. Wait, there is no proof that…_

He was deep in thought when he began to gag at the noxious fumes, quickly swishing his wand and cleaning up the contaminated classroom as much as his magic could, coughing while taking long and dramatic strides out of the classroom to wait until the air had properly cleared before reprimanding all of his students, even the good ones, equally, before hustling them all into the room. He noticed that Belle was giving him nervous looks, and leaning into Penny Haywood, the star potions student, whispering frantically. The popular blonde looked concerned.

 

***

 

Albany went to the library after dinner to study for Defense Against The Dark Arts, though she was easily distracted and found herself again in the Restricted Section having cast a Disillusionment Charm on herself. She wandered the shelves, reading runes and cyrillic before she found one book in particular on sex and intimacy. The moment she opened it, however, a series of painfully loud and obnoxious sex noises spewed out, and she slammed it immediately, praying that the reverberations wouldn’t catch Pince’s attention. How was this even allowed within the confines of a school? Someone would inevitably sneak in and take a peek, as she was doing now. Albany shuddered to think about a poor with first year troublemaker stumbling upon such a book.

She opened another one about dream interconnectivity, and had just started reading a paragraph on spiritual relationships and how they can impact sleep and the visions they have, before the book literally bit her arm. The book didn’t seem to take much of a liking to her. She shrieked in pain, but managed to pull the damn thing off her arm and slam it back onto its place on the shelf before hightailing it out of the Restricted Section.

She stood in the adjacent hallway (filled with books which wouldn’t bite you), panting, trying her hardest to seem nonchalant as other students gave her weird looks. Scanning the library for a study spot, where she actually intended to study, she saw Andrea and decided that she needed consolation. Fast.

“Andrea?” Albany said, approaching her friend in a relatively private study table in the back of the library. Andrea was diligently studying her Transfiguration textbook, planning to get an O and take the hell out of that N.E.W.T. level class. She was McGonagall’s favorite, and admired the woman as though she were a Goddess. She prayed that their similar wand woods, fir, would mean that she could take over the position one day. That was Andrea’s one dream.

Andrea looked up, seeing her best friend, and smiled brightly at her.

“Yes, Albie? Wait, did your hair just grow, like, an entire foot? By the looks of it, maybe even two!”

“My father killed himself yesterday.”

“What… Albany, oh my God, are you okay?!” Andrea was shocked, standing up and grasping onto her friend’s shoulder, trying to look into her eyes and pour out her heart, her genuine consolation. “Love, I am here for you. Who have you told? Belle? Mpho?”

“I only told… one other person.” she said, wondering why she was almost revealing her great secret, her even greater shame.

“Who?”

“I can’t tell you.” she said. Andrea looked highly confused, but incredibly curious. She was just about to ask a question until Albany put her finger across Andrea’s lips. “There’s something else. I need some advice, you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

“Oh, God… this doesn’t sound so good, Albie. Anything that comes from your mouth is bound to be literally so insane and so implausible that it sounds made up. But go ahead.” Andrea always caught on to things.

“Brace yourself.” Albany muttered, before tapping her wand on her neck and casting a _revelio_ to display an incredibly garish bruised bite mark, scabbed in places, crusted with dried blood, ever so slightly swollen surrounded by a series of scratches and smaller bruises. She then tapped her eye, revealing her swollen black-and-blue affliction.

Andrea gasped quite audibly as though preparing to scream, and Albany slapped one hand across her best friend’s mouth, as they were still in a library. “What did I tell you? See, I knew you’d be freaked out!”

“That could’ve hit your jugular! Albany… That did not come from Belle.” Andrea said. “Oh my God… you’re cheating on her? With who? And who the fuck would even _dare_ to beat you up? If it was Razget again, I will hex the shit out of that monster!” Albany had to cover Andrea’s mouth again, as they were getting looks from Madam Pince.

“That’s the part I can’t tell you about, Andy-Pandy. You’d literally kill me and you’d kill… the other party.” Albany whispered, quickly tapping her neck again with her wand and covering up the mark with a concealment charm she had actually learned from Belle.

“Well it becomes my issue when my best friend is being bit like some kind of passive piece of meat, some kind of piece of prey. Wait, why aren’t we talking more about your fucking dad?” Andrea said, wrenching Albany’s palm off of her face. “What happened to your father, Albany? You can tell me.”

“He hung himself in the attic. That’s where my bedroom is.” Albany said, completely devoid of emotion, disassociating beyond belief.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Andrea shouted.

She was infamously loud, and Pince certainly was not very fond of her presence in the library. Andrea had the bad habit of wandering between bookshelves and singing operatic overtures in her singsong soprano voice, mainly to herself, completely unphased by the looks she got from students and faculty.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” Albany said, grabbing Andrea by the wrist while she fumbled for her Transfiguration textbooks and parchment, and dragging her out into a corridor, back into the supply room where Fae had trapped her with a boggart for what felt like so long ago.

“Albany, please, let it out. You can do it. You can be honest with me!” Andrea said, as Albany headed inside and laid down on the dusty floor of the dingy room, which had only recently been converted into their own private hangout when inside the castle.

“I can’t. I think in these past two years I’ve cried every tear I’ve had left in my body. The well’s gone and dried up, Andy-Pandy. This is it for me.” she muttered, staring up at the ceiling, mind and body feeling slack and pointless.

“You’ve been through so much since you’ve gotten here. It’s not fair.” Andrea said, lying down next to Albany, the big spoon to her little, despite the height difference. “I want you to come with me, my boyfriend, and my parents on our trip across Europe this year. Would you want to come?”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course I am. You need a break. Plus, it’ll be our little reward for finishing your O.W.L.s and my N.E.W.T.s. Plus, I can use magic then so we can have a blast! My parents would totally be fine with it. They really do want to sit down and get to know you. They’ve heard so much about you. You deserve a break from all of this suffering and all the bullshit you’ve had to endure here in this social hell of Hogwarts and of the house of the _snakes_. I love you, Albany. I’ll ask Belle and Mpho if they want to join us for the company. We’re all here for you, now come here.” Andrea said, drawing Albany close.

Albany nodded, her eyes fluttering shut, wondering, in that moment, how her mother was doing. _Was it my fault? Did he kill himself because of me?_

They stayed there for a few moments before Albany remembered something, and sat up.

“I have more bruises, cuts, scrapes... A lot more. Are you okay with seeing my ass?”

Andrea burst into laughter, tears fell down her face. Albany began laughing as well.

“Yes, I can handle it. I am worried about what I’m going to see, admittedly, but I think you have a pretty nice ass, or, at least I’ve gleaned that through clothing.”

Albany cast a powerful locking charm on the door and removed her uniform until she was in nothing but her panties and a comfortable fabric brasserie. She swirled around, and pulled back her panties until her cheeks were showing, shaking them around satirically so her best friend could get a good look.

“Oh. My. God.” Andrea was speechless for a moment. “Who the FUCK thinks doing that is okay? Okay, I get people have their preferences, and I know my boyfriend and I would never do this, but it really just looks like someone just beat the shit out of you and then _tortured_ you! How is that okay? Who’s the bastard or bitch I have to hex, Albany?”

“I honestly don’t know why I showed you. I just felt like I had to show someone. I knew you would freak out like this.” Albany mumbled, starting to put her uniform back on, ending the spectacle of pain she was making of herself.

“Then why show me? To prove what?” Andrea gasped.

“To prove that it was real.” Albany replied.

“What do you mean?” Andrea faltered, tilting her head to the side.

“I… I had an… encounter. It was in a dream. It was… a bit rough, as you can tell. When I woke up… I was left like this. It was as though the events in the dream actually happened. I’ve never sleep-walked before… and I definitely couldn’t have gotten to the… location… where the events took place while sleep-walking.”

Andrea paused, standing up and pacing, thinking quickly with her Ravenclaw wit.

“It might have been a curse. Someone out there might be trying to curse you. I dunno, maybe they were trying to make your dreams have a physical impact on you? Or maybe they wanted to manipulate your mind and your sexual history as a kind of punishment for deviancy? We can’t be sure until we do our research and weigh our options.” Andrea said, attempting to logically find a solution to the problem at hand.

“There are dozens of people at this school who would like nothing more than to curse me, Andy-Pandy. We both know this.” Albany sighed.

“Yes, that’s why I’m here to keep you safe.” Andrea replied, giving Albany a delicate hug, being cautious of her wounds and bruises. “Should we go to Madam Pomfrey?”

“No. I don’t want to have to explain their origins.”

“You’re right. That would be a bit… I understand why you don’t want to get anyone involved. You need to keep a low profile right now, I get that. I am mostly worried that someone was out there, taking advantage of you, without your being aware.” she said. “Who was the other party, Albie? I ask because context might prove helpful.”

Albany completely froze, her cheeks turned bright red.

“Oh goodness, is it someone embarrassing? Like was it Bryce or something? Oh my God… was it Fae? Ew! Maybe Arnold? Well, he’s pretty hot, so...” Andrea laughed, throwing her head back, before realizing that Albany had turned whiter than a ghost. “Albie? Go on, tell me.”

“I can’t tell you. I can’t tell you because if it was real I am so totally fucked. Literally. If this… is real… then that would mean that… sex… took place. That would mean that I literally fucked who I think I fucked, for real, and said person did _this_ to me.”

“It could just be a manifestation of the person, you don’t know if the other person is aware of whether or not it happened. See, we don’t know the extent of the curse. I’ll do research on it, I promise. I’ll let you know if I find anything, though we only have another week at Hogwarts for the term.”

“You’re a saint, Andrea.” Albany sighed, realizing she was developing a migraine.

“You have to tell me who it was, Albany. If it’s a famous person or something, someone we don’t know in real life, then we have nothing to worry about, but if it’s someone we know…”

“It was Professor Snape.”

“I’m sorry, WHAT?!?”

 

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, have you guys noticed that such a character is perhaps a bit more influential to the sequence of the Harry Potter books than one would otherwise come to believe? Because... holy shit. So, was she the real catalyst for the wizarding world's epic race war? Ironic.
> 
> Also... what the fuck was up with Severus's treatment of her? Holy fuck. What do you guys think? I'm genuinely curious about what some of the reasons are behind men's physical abusiveness towards women in general as a psychological phenomenon. Was it because of his own father? Sure, he had been trying and trying for years and years to not take lash out physically against really anyone hand-to-hand, and he definitely didn't really think this was real. Is this justification? Does this reveal his 'truer colours', or is this simply an excuse to exert his own bottled up rage through years of abuse and neglect?
> 
> Check out this article:
> 
> https://www.ncjrs.gov/family-violence/
> 
> "Research has shown that causes of domestic violence may include early parenthood, problem drinking, severe poverty, unemployment, and mental and emotional distress. Efforts to prevent domestic violence require a clear understanding of these factors that contribute to family violence, coordinating resources, and fostering and initiating change in individuals, families, and society."
> 
> "Children, when experiencing domestic violence as witnesses, can suffer from devastating effects. Research has shown that children who witness domestic violence report symptoms of trauma at an elevated rate, signifying that child witnesses to family violence are a highly victimized group."
> 
> "This exposure to violence at a young age can harm a child's emotional, psychological, and even physical development. Children exposed to violence are more likely to have difficulty in school, abuse drugs or alcohol, act aggressively, suffer from depression, and engage in criminal behavior as adults."
> 
> ~~~
> 
> Music time!
> 
> 1\. All The Trees Of The Field Will Clap Their Hands (Sufjan Stevens): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Mr_VkAXWZA
> 
> 2\. Dance On Vaseline (David Byrne): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8idEQ1y_X_Y
> 
> 3\. The Killing Season (Mark Lanegan): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VF-kQi-H7pk
> 
> SPOTIFY PLAYLIST: https://open.spotify.com/user/mooniemoe/playlist/1BftWaSHedV8PHnvuicKXB?si=ot4xvuMgR-GYpKqjA6kz5A


	16. Vow For Broken Harbours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrea learns about Severus's pact, she and Albany make an Unbreakable Vow, and Severus and Albany have a go at real intimacy.

 

***

 

Andrea and Albany were crouching and crawling all four like toddlers (which Albany found incredibly painful) through the hospital ward, casting a rather weak Disillusionment Charm whenever they felt like Pomfrey was close. Albany cast the charm while Andrea rummaged through the medicinal shelves of the hospital’s stock, before turning around to ask, “Why don’t you ask _Snape_ for potions?”

“Why the hell do you think I _don’t_ want to ask Snape for potions?” Albany snapped back at her. “As you can imagine, it would be a bit _awkward_ for me to even face the man. Plus, what if what happened… actually happened?”

“I could be there to mediate the tension.” Andrea suggested. “And yeah, I think the stuff on this shelf is mostly for people having made contact with poisonous plants out in the Forbidden Forest. Let me check…” Before she could finish, she turned and came face-to-face with Madam Pomfrey, who looked rather pissed off having two students going through her private stores.

“Now what is it that you two are doing? Miss Palestone, I am aware that you are taking your N.E.W.T.s this Monday. _Transfiguration_ on Monday, correct? Word from McGonagall is that you are highly exceptional… Miss Newson, you surely must need to study for your O.W.L.s.” she said with a twisted little smile. She was a nice woman, but she sure did love busting students when she got the chance.

“Albany and I were looking for contraceptive potions, Madam Pomfrey. We were too embarrassed to ask you. We’re sorry.” Andrea lied. When she lied, she lied brilliantly.

Albany didn’t want Pomfrey to treat her injuries, because she didn’t want to have an explanation, and she definitely didn’t even have an explanation to give.

“Here you are, then.” she said, picking out some potions from a shelf and wrapping them in paper bags so as to respect their discretion. “Well, you girls get on your way. Go study for your exams.” Madam Pomfrey said, ushering them out of the Hospital Ward.

“Shit.” Albany muttered.

Although she may have casted a concealment charm, the pain was not at all alleviated as she tried her best not to waddle like a penguin back to the hall. They had finished their classes, and it was approaching dinnertime. They both knew that they would have to see Severus, and Andrea formulated a clever plan.

“Albany, I have an idea.” she said.

“Oh no. What?”

“Let’s wait in outside of the Great Hall before dinner starts, and then, when we see Snape, I’ll distract him and you’ll remove the concealment charm and see how he reacts. If he doesn’t seem to care much or even notice, then we’re in the clear and we can start looking for who tried to curse you. If he reacts, _bingo_.”

“I don’t know if I even want to know if it actually happened…” she said, pausing for a moment before casting _muffliato_ , a charm Andre had taught her a few weeks earlier. “Andrea, I have to tell you… there was something in real-life that did happen.”

“Oh no, Albany. Alllbbbaaannnnnyyyy… Nooooo… Allllbbbaaannnnyy… Why? Oh, God, ew...”

“I was drunk, okay? I had just found out my father had killed himself. I had detention. I had tried to apparate back to the castle and lost my big toenail and a chunk of my hair. He offered me a potion to regrow my hair and toenail, but I chugged it all and that’s why my hair is so damn long. He… clipped my toenails…”

“What kind of bloody detention do you two have together?!” Andrea laughed.

“That’s not the worst part.” Albany mumbled.

“Well, go on.”

“After all that, I puked in his toilet and he gave me his spare toothbrush and… he was sitting there on his couch and… I sat down next to him…” Albany started choking up, and wiped a nervous tear away with her forefinger before continuing on. “Then he kissed me, and I kissed him back. He felt me up and… I ground up against his... and he bit my neck…”

“Oh my God.” Andrea gasped, in complete and utter shock. “Maybe he is a vampire, after all…”

Albany smacked Andrea’s shoulder. “Not funny!”

“Jokes aside, Albie… you need to tell Dumbledore right away.”

“I can’t. He apologized, anyways.”

“Well, it doesn’t really matter that he apologized, does it?” Andrea said, turning to run to Dumbledore’s office before Albany grabbed the sleeve of her robe and stopped her.

“Please! If it were any other situation, he should be reported. I know that. But there are extenuating circumstances regarding the two of us. I haven’t told anyone about this besides Dumbledore and Trelawney and Firenze… but there was a prophecy about the two of us. I wouldn’t have even been given this scholarship as a Muggle-Born if it weren’t for this damn prophecy. They didn’t accept me to Hogwarts when I was eleven because my magic was too out of control. I figured it out. They gave an excuse that my parents were reluctant, but it was so much more than that. They were _afraid_ of me, too afraid to admit me. Hogwarts isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, there are _politics_ involved. Then there was all this talk about a Prince guiding a Seer, and somehow this connects the two of us…” she began, pouring her heart out, releasing a tsunami of secrets she had kept pent up for the past two years. “That’s why he has to stay here. He’s crucial in protecting Harry Potter.”

“Harry Potter? You mean, Snape has something to do with the Boy Who Lived? Why is he a ‘Prince’? Like what?”

“I don’t know if I should say. You have to promise, and seriously PROMISE, to never tell another soul. This is highly sensitive information, and if anyone finds out… he will definitely not have mercy on you himself, anyways.” Albany was growing desperate.

She saw a swarm of incoming students and pulled Andrea down a long corridor towards a relatively deserted hallway. She soon realized this is where she and Jonas had snogged before she gave him her virginity. She cast _muffliato_ again, hoping that the charm would be strong enough.

“Severus Snape was a Death Eater.”

“HOLY SHIT!” Andrea shrieked.

“ _Was_ is the key word here.”

“How the fuck is he allowed to even teach here? That is literally so disgusting. What the hell is wrong with Dumbledore?”

“Think through it. There obviously _is_ a reason. Dumbledore is a smart guy. Well, that’s a bit of an understatement. Dumbledore doesn’t do anything unless it benefits his school or his personal mission as headmaster and leader of the Order of the Phoenix, defending Muggles and Muggle-Borns alike from blood supremacists and dark wizards and witches. So yes, there’s a reason why Severus is being protected here.”

“I guess so. Well, do you know what the reason is? I think you most certainly do.”

“Severus Snape came from a broken home. His father beat him. His father was a Muggle, his mother was a witch. He didn’t allow her to use magic. He broke her wand. They were poor, they had little to no food. His father beat his mother to death when Snape was fifteen.” Albany knew she was revealing secrets she had no right to reveal, but she found that she couldn’t stop herself.

“Oh my God, that’s terrible… Now I feel bad for the guy.” Andrea mumbled.

“He was madly in love with Harry Potter’s mother, Lily Potter. They grew up together, she would play with him and bring him food when he had nothing to eat. James Potter, Harry’s father, used to bully him and beat him up in school.”

“So what, his bully married the love of his life? So he does have something to do with the Potter family, but what about their son?”

“There’s so much more… I can’t talk about it. I’ve already said too much. It’s a complicated, and painfully sad story.” Albany grew nervous, inadvertently breaking the charm. She sighed, regretting that she had shared so much of Severus’s private secrets to an outside party. “I’ve said too much. He disclosed this all to me in private. Please, please don’t tell anyone this, Andrea. I’m trusting you.”

“This still doesn’t excuse the fact that he did what he did to you. So, what, his dark past justifies that he was a Death Eater, likely a _murderer_ , and that he engaged sexually with a student?”

“I don’t think it was _sexual_ , if it was just the kissing and biting, of course.”

“HE SHOULDN’T EVEN HAVE TOUCHED YOU!” Andrea shrieked, her shout reverberating in the hall.

“Come on, Andrea, let’s stand in front of the Great Hall. We’ll enact our plan. Then we’ll figure out what to do after that, okay?” Albany was desperate, grabbing Andrea by the wrist and leading her away, hoping to God that no one heard her outburst.

 

***

 

 _“HE SHOULDN’T EVEN HAVE TOUCHED YOU!”_ Severus heard resounding in an adjacent corridor. He turned white as a sheet, and his body stiffened. He let himself melt back against a column as he saw a flash of reddish-blonde hair down to the floor and silky, dark brown medium-length hair fly past him. Emerging from the column, he watched as the two students, hand-in-hand, were walking as fast as they could in the direction of the Great Hall.

_She’s told all of her friends. Your time is up at Hogwarts, Severus. Off to Azkaban you go. Not even for a good reason._

There was still the lingering question as to whether the events in his dream actually happened. Sure, the white lacy knickers on his floor might have been some kind of sadistic prank, but they were, in fact, the same ones as those in his dream.

He took a deep breath, composed himself, and proceed to walk slowly, with intention, towards the Great Hall for dinner. Swarms of students were entering in waves, and then, he saw them there. Albany Olivia Newson and Andrea Palestone, leaning against one the walls near the entrance.

“Professor! May I inquire about an assignment?” Andrea said, waving her hands as though she had the nerve or the right to summon him over to her.

Severus sighed, feigning irritation, before stalking up to her. “You may ask your silly little questions during my office hours. Or were you not aware of that after seven years of taking my classes?” he snarled, before turning to Albany. His stomach dropped.

She had quickly lifted the charm, revealing her black eye and the hideous bite mark and other bruises left across her skin. He found himself staring at her, mouth agape, dark eyes glazing over. She took out her wand and, as though nothing had happened, tapped on the injuries, making them disappear once more.

“Well, thank you anyways, Professor. I know my friend Albany here has detention tonight. Perhaps I will show up with her as well, just for convenience’s sake. Does that work for you, Professor?” Andrea said with an overly-perky smile. This girl knew. She knew everything.

“Um…” He cleared his throat, it was rare that he ever faltered. “That would be acceptable.” He swept himself away as fast as possible.

“It was definitely real, Albany.” Andrea said, grinning at the way the man cowered before her knowledge before turning around to see her best friend crying quietly. “Albie! Are you okay?”

“It happened, it happened, it happened. Oh my God…”

“It’s okay! This is all on him. He’s probably really guilty. He’ll give you all the remedial potions you’ll need. At least we’ll have that to get out of all this. He’ll basically be in debt to you for the rest of your time at Hogwarts. Let’s look on the bright side, okay?” she said. “Wait, does that mean that… if it happened… Did you guys even use protection?”

“Oh. I didn’t think of that.”

“You have to be more responsible! Were you responsible with Jonas?”

“Yeah, I took the contraceptive potion.”

“You’re saying that in the singular.” Andrea said, her eyes widening.

“Yeah, I took it once a week. What’s the big deal?”

“Oh, honey… I sometimes forget that you’re not from a wizarding family… You’re supposed to take the potion immediately before intercourse. Not… once a week… Where did you even get that from?” Andrea said.

“Oh I… well, I was on the pill for a bit, that’s a Muggle contraceptive, but I stopped taking it once I started taking the potions… Jonas told me to take it ‘weekly’. Andrea, seriously. I’ve done enough stuff with Jonas and nothing has happened. I’m not pregnant. Jonas didn’t get me pregnant. The _other_ person… didn’t get me pregnant.” Albany said, trying hard not to show how freaked out Andrea had made her.

“Never trust the guy to tell you how to take preventative measures!” Andrea shouted. They got some stares from confused underclassmen and bemused upperclassmen. “You should have known that. Don’t they teach this stuff in Muggle school?”

“I mean, they do, but I hadn’t even kissed a boy until I got to Hogwarts. Andrea, please, it will be okay. Stop making such a scene.” Albany said, growing slightly irritated.

“I’m only trying to help you out.”

“I know you are. Come on, let’s get dinner. Mind if I sit with the Ravenclaws? I’m seriously starving.”

Andrea raised one eyebrow, having noticed how much weight Albany had gained. She had gone from a rather stick-like awkward teenager to a rather curvy woman, and though she didn’t look bad either way, the difference was stark, and Andrea watched as boys, and some girls, were taking in her body, though Albany didn’t seem to notice in the slightest.

 

***

 

There it was. The knock on his office door. He had been dreading said knock for three whole hours, as she sat at his desk, going over assignments and mulling in his own thoughts.

He stood up, regained his composure, and went to the door, opening it as menacingly and dramatically as he could. There they were. Andrea Palestone and Albany Olivia Newson. Two self-involved, snarky brats and close companions to one another.

“It’s good to see you, Professor. May we come in?” Andrea asked with a very fake smile plastered on her face.

“Enter.” he said, making his way back to his desk and sitting down.

The two girls entered the room, and, with a flick of his wand, he summoned two chairs across from him and his desk. “You may sit. I have been made aware that there is something you both would wish to discuss with me, together.”

“Cut the bullshit, Snape.” Andrea fumed, daringly whipping out her wand and pointing it at Severus, who looked at her sardonically, a bemused expression on his face. “Why the hell did you beat the shit out of her?”

Snape had been a spy, after all. He had incredible acting skills.

“I don’t know what you are speaking of, Miss Palestone. You may now put away your wand…” he began, before being hit with a wordless _flipendo_ and sent flying into one of the bookshelves in the back of his office, hitting a sensitive part of his back. He could feel an old scar threaten to rip open again.

_I actually wasn’t expecting her to cast that spell… That was impressive, I must admit. That takes a lot of nerve._

He would be promptly taken off guard again, as well.

“ _Incarcerous!_ ” Andrea said, wrapping Severus’s wrists and ankles together, before removing his wand from inside his robe with an “ _accio Severus Snape’s wand_ ”.

“WHAT IN GOD’S NAME ARE YOU DOING? I WILL HAVE YOU EXPELLED!” Severus roared, feeling panic and rage finally setting it, thrashing around in his ropes, unable to fight back, as his wand was currently in the hands of one surprisingly brave Ravenclaw.

“You are a bad liar, Severus.” Albany cooed, looking down at the ground, still sitting. “I think it would be best to talk in his sitting room, don’t you think?”

Albany stood up, and cast an _Alohomora_ on the door to Severus’s private quarters before using _wingardium leviosa_ to lift the bound man up and onto the sofa where they had first been physical with each other in the waking world. Or, whatever.

“So, Snape, we know you also had the dream. Fess up.” Andrea said, standing in front of the fireplace and crossing her arms.

“FINE! I had the dream. I thought it was _just_ a dream, I didn’t know what I was doing… I didn’t know there would be… I’ve never hurt anyone like that before.” he sputtered.

“You killed your fucking father, Severus. You have hurt others when you were loyal to You-Know-Who. I thought you had learned, but maybe you haven’t after all.” Albany snapped, leaning in and getting in his face, so close that the tips of their noses were nearly touching.

“He killed his father?!?” Andrea shrieked, looking back and forth from Severus to Albany. He panicked.

_This is going quite badly, Severus… Get your shit together… Come up with something, anything!_

“Albany, how DARE you tell your little friends about things I have told you in private. You think of yourself as a little _victim_ , a _sweet_ little victim, but maybe you should take a look at yourself. Maybe then you’ll understand that there are more than one _murderers_ in the room!”

“What… What does he mean, Albany?” Andrea faltered.

Albany blinked. He was right.

“Both of the murders were to those who afflicted us with trauma, with abuse. It was reactionary. It was circumstantial.” Albany began, turning to stare into the flickering green flames of the fireplace. “Andrea, you will need to go.” Albany turned and released the binding spell from Severus. “But first, we are going to make a Vow.”

“You don’t mean what I think you mean…” Andrea began, looking back and forth, shrinking as Severus stood up, all domineering 1.9 meters of him, glaring down at both girls, fury in his eyes. “You mean an Unbreakable Vow? That means… That means I might die!”

“We’d have you vow that, until 2002, you will not be able to speak of Severus’s and my relationship or interactions outside of the realm of teacher-student.” Albany said.

“What’s so special about 2002?” Andrea asked.

“Yes, I am wondering the same as well…” Severus began.

“It’s the year after… something important I’ve seen… will happen. I can’t really explain it, but I just know it. Just trust me, okay?”

“You want us to trust you, and you can’t even trust your own best friend?” Andrea gasped. “Albany, what is wrong with you? I know you’ve been through so much, and as a result you’re really not thinking straight!”

“I second Albany’s demand for a Vow.” Severus hissed.

“Andrea, this is a Vow that will wear off. It has a bloody expiration date. This is super important.” Albany begged.

Andrea turned to Severus, her eyes begging for answers. “Albany talked about a prophecy involving the two of you. If it really is that important, then I’ll make the fucking Vow. That means, if my life ends, the two of you will be responsible. You will have me on your guilty consciences. Do you understand that?”

“Grasp Albany’s arm, Andrea.” Severus purred, Andrea flinching at the use of her first name.

“I know how making an Unbreakable Vow works, asshole, I’ve been to a wizarding school for seven years now, thank you very much.” Andrea mumbled, taking Albany’s arm, looking up at Severus, daring him to go through with this.

Severus wordlessly summoned his wand, which had been discarded by Andrea back in his office, and held it out towards their joined hands.

“Do you, Andrea Palestone, agree to keep the relationship and private interactions between Severus Tobias Snape and Andrea Olivia Newson _private_ , revealing it not to a single soul?”

“I… I will…” Andrea was faltering, looking down at the swirling gold tendrils forming around their forearms and wrists.

“Will you wait until the year 2002 before detailing their relations and your knowledge of their private exchanges to another soul?”

“I will.” she replied, gulping, fighting for breath.

“Will you be willing to hear information, news, stories, gossip of such talk but remain unable to share it with anyone other than Albany Olivia Newson?” he droned, relishing in how the poor Ravenclaw was growing more and more scared by all this.

“I will.” There. They had made the Vow.

“You may leave my private quarters, Miss Palestone. Do shut the door behind you.” he said, stalking off to his potions supply and storage room.

Andrea hugged Albany gently and gave her a brief peck on the cheek before she hurried off to Ravenclaw Tower, to process all the chaos that just took place.

Severus returned to the sitting room, carrying a tray filled with potions of different colors, sizes, and smells. He brought the tray down to his coffee table, and looked up at her. She wordlessly and wandlessly cancelled the concealment charm, which, admittedly, had been a bit draining to do all day.

“Albany… I am so sorry…” he said, taking in the bruises. He meant it.

He watched as she removed her tie, her sweater vest, her skirt, her shoes, her tights, her brasserie, her bright pink floral knickers. She stood there, naked and badly battered, staring at him with an indiscernible look in her eyes that horrified him.

“You have potions for healing, don’t you?” she asked him calmly.

He felt flustered, grabbing around until he found a jar of healing paste. He approached her slowly, before removing some paste with his fingers and rubbing it across the bite mark on her neck and then on her swollen eye. He cast _episkey_ wordlessly, for her assemblage of bruises and took another dittany paste and ran it down the scratch marks down her torso, and then, as he circled around her, down her back. He applied bruise cream to her neck, breasts, buttocks, and to the backs of her thighs. She reached out and took her own fistful of paste and rubbed it on and inside her cunt, making her wince as the sting of healing was nearly unbearable.

_Look at what you’ve done to her…_

The healing properties were beginning to kick in, her breath was growing more even, and he cast another _episkey_ on her collective wounds to make sure everything healed sufficiently. They had been doing all of this in silence, and, when her wounds had started to vanish, she looked up at him, pressing her cheek against his torso, forgiving him.

“You’re never going to do this again. To anyone.” she said, looking up into his eyes.

“You are forgiving me too soon, Albany. I do not deserve your kindness.”

“No, I mean, I can look into the future and you’re seriously not going to do it again. I think a lot of things happen as a part of the ‘learning process’ of our future selves. You’ve definitely learned your lesson. The fact that you even have the capacity for remorse is telling.” she said. He was always amazed by her simultaneous ditzy persona and sharp, Slytherin cunning and wit.

“Well, Albany, if you don’t mind, it would be best if you were to dress and return to your dormitory. You have your O.W.L.s very soon. If I recall from our brief advisory meeting at the beginning of the year that you were interested in writing and working in the Ministry? Both are competitive careers and require extensive preparation.” he said, hoping to reestablish some formality, despite the fact that he had a naked woman he fancied standing right in front of him, one which he had to address.

“I… Um… I’ve noticed that my… panties… and my diary have been missing. I know you have them… Could I get them back?” she asked.

“Yes… one minute…” he said, heading into his bedroom. He gathered up her things, before turning and seeing that Albany was standing in the room with him with inquisitive eyes.

“Albany! I was just going to head out to the sitting room...” he began, before she grasped his shoulders, giving her leverage to reach up and peck his lips. He looked down at her, removed his cloak, and swept her up into his arms and tossed her onto his bed.

He quickly removed his outer coat, and jumped into bed next to her. She grasped onto his chest, pressing her face into his hair, breathing deeply. He had never ‘cuddled’ with anymore before, and it felt utterly foreign to him. She had her arms wrapped across his chest and leg across his body, pressing her crotch on his hip. He tentatively took her arm in one hand, not entirely sure what to do. She was taking deep breaths, and he did the same, smelling that same vanilla and burning wood.

“Do you wear some kind of perfume?” he asked suddenly.

“Yes. It’s the one my mum got for me for my birthday last December.” she replied.

Suddenly, he could smell her renewed arousal, and he knew they were entering dangerous territory, far more dangerous due to the fact that they were both aware of what was happening and very much awake. Suddenly, she was laying on top of him and looking deep into his eyes. He opened his mouth slightly, and she kissed him. Soon, they were kissing each other softly, slowly, and carefully as though the other person’s lips were made of delicate paper. She rubbed her fingers across the frown lines in his forehead, down to his eyelids, and further down to his cheekbones, stopping there and just holding him. She pressed her face into his hair again, kissing his neck with featherlight touches. He tentatively reached up his hand and rested it on her upper back, feeling a sharp intake of breath. He brought his other hand to her lower back, running his hands over the velvety smoothness of her skin, and he held her there softly, letting their breathing fall in-sync.

She suddenly placed her knee up against his groin, and she felt his body stiffen underneath her. She brought herself up on her hands, staring down at his stormy expression, before kissing him more fully, entering his mouth, becoming more acquainted with it.

“You remind me of her.” he said once she pulled away.

“What?”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“Lily. It’s always been her.” she said, rolling off of him, lying adjacent to his long lanky body, staring up at the ceiling. “I don’t think I’m much like her at all, actually.”

“You do have much in common. Kindness. Thoughtfulness. Empathy… _Beauty_.” he said, fighting back a sudden surge of emotion, his breath hitched.

“Beauty? You flatter me. I am nowhere near the prettiest girl at Hogwarts, much less in Great Britain. Not by a longshot.” she laughed.

“No, physical beauty is… subjective. I have none of that, _clearly_ . Who am I to judge? It’s… it’s the soul. _Fuck_ , I sound like a bloody sentimentalist. I’d laugh at the git who ever had the nerve to say such a thing out loud...” he muttered.

“So I have a beautiful soul, is that what you mean? That’s incredibly corny, don’t you think? I’d never expect such corniness to come from your scowling, thin-lipped, verbally abusive mouth!” she said, propping herself on her side, looking at him with an impish expression plastered on her face. “Though I must say, that is, again, very generous of you, Severus.” she said, taking his face in her hands again and kissing him.

This time, he felt no qualms about rolling over so that he was on top of her, laving her neck, clavicle, shoulders, breasts, chest, and tummy with reverent, tiny kisses as soft as he could possibly muster. He was fighting the urge to be rough with her, to simply take her, as much as was possible. Suddenly, she was fumbling with the many buttons on his pants, and he did not resist her, promptly entering her willing body as soon as she had fully unbuttoned him and pulled down his trousers enough to free his cock. 

“Oh… Oh, God…” she whispered, staring up at him, pulling her legs back so her thighs were nearly touching the mattress, pupils blown. “Severus…”

He was thrusting as gently as he could as he stared deeply at her, getting to know her eyes and the flecks of green inside, the way her cheeks flushed, how her two front teeth were the slightest bit buck-toothed, the way her breasts bounced just the slightest bit with each reverent motion. He closed his eyes at the electric sensation he felt as he rolled gently deep inside of her; he could feel his balls slap against her ass and the backs of her thighs as he undulated. She moaned, and he did as well, latching onto her breasts and suckling on them (he had actually never done this before with anyone else). He wanted her to know that, although he may be a cruel man with a questionable conscience, he could relish her, he could care about her. She was the first woman he had ever kissed, after all.

He came inside her slowly, breathing out into her mouth, watching as her body shuddered and spasmed around his softening cock, which was still inside her. They stayed that way for a moment, both of them shocked as to what had just taken place. She placed one hand around his back, which was sensitive with scar tissue, and kissed him deeply, tears forming in her eyes when he drew away and looked at her again. She nodded, giving him a kind of silent permission. He rolled off her with a gasp, limbs sprawled out, panting heavily. He had never been so comfortable in his own bed before. He looked back over at her body; she was equally stunned, breasts heaving with every tired breath.

She looked over at him, and he suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to please her once again, to let her know that he could prioritize her pleasure, and not his own. He reached towards one of her breasts and sucked and kneaded it readily before his other hand flew down to her clit, which he circled and teased as gently as he could while looking into her eyes, breathing in her pants, taking in her slight twitches of pleasure and the goosebumps erupting all over her skin.

“Shit!” she shouted suddenly, before another orgasm took her by surprise, causing her body to be enveloped by shudders, her neck arched back in ecstasy. He kissed her deeply again while she spasmed through the aftershocks, before she turned to look at him.

“It’s after hours. People will wonder why I’m out.” she said, putting a hand on his cheek. “Can I stay with you?”

“Please.” he said, bringing her as close to him as possible, breathing deeply of her wild, impossibly long hair, feeling the weight of her milky white breasts up against his chest, letting one hand delicately rest on her bum. They would stay that way through the night.

  
***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed that change in pace. Her fifth year is coming to a close. How she's going to survive her sixth and seventh year... we'll never know.
> 
> Music:
> 
> 1\. Tell Me Why (Neil Young): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LaUdX5wSaKk
> 
> 2\. The Perfect Kiss (New Order): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x3XW6NLILqo
> 
> 3\. Laughter and Forgetting (David Sylvian):https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Lgcf-aval0


	17. Release The Snakes On Oedipus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albany has a strange dream about the role of mothers, Albany and Belle 'consummate' their relationship, there is a spat by the lakeside oak tree, Albany ends up in the Hospital Ward, and Severus makes a speech to his Slytherins. He also reads Albany's poems.

 

***

 

 _“_ _Harry… you are so loved… Harry, Mama loves you… Harry, be safe… be strong…”_

Albany was there, in the room in Godric’s Hollow, crouching behind the cradle, watching as the Dark Lord killed her, a woman who so strongly resembled her own mother. Lily Potter truly did look like Lillian Gold. The phonetic similarities were also very bizarre, Albany found.

She could easily see her own mother protecting her in such a way. It was not at all unusual. Any mother would have done such a thing to protect their child, who was supposed to mean more to her than anything else on this hellish planet we all call home.

Sure, this was a dream, and she was not _really_ there, but it felt so real. She felt herself choking up, her body began to shake, and her eyes welled up with tears. She could feel everything Lily felt in this moment, the thoughts of quiet words and swarming search for last words rushing through her hair like amphetamine. Albany was Lily’s magical prowess, she was her potential, she was her hopes for a long future with a man she truly loved, she was a woman who a baby whom she wanted to pamper and cherish.

_“Not Harry! Please! Have mercy… have mercy…”_

When the Dark Lord struck her down, her scream was piercing, it could break glass if there was any left to break in the decimated abode in Godric’s Hollow. Her gorgeous red hair whipped around her as the green light danced around her, and she collapsed onto the floor, her body limp, the life sucked out of her by sheer, unyielding, dark, evil, cruel force. There was another burst of green light, and then the Dark Lord was gone, leaving a crying infant, screeching in pain and panic, with that famous lightning scar across his forehead. This was a story known throughout the wizarding world. She was in awe that her Visions would give her a glimpse into such a story in such a personal way. Silent tears rolled down her face as she watched from behind the crib.

Severus entered the room. He held Lily Potter’s corpse. He wailed.

Albany didn’t find herself particularly interested in this, having spent too much time seeing, hearing, and sensing him dwell on it, and stood, hoping to see where her feet would take her. Severus couldn’t see her, she was simply a guest looking down at a memory. She walked down the stairs, lined with strewn papers and broken photo frames. She saw the body of James Potter at the bottom of the stairs, his glasses broken and mouth agape, eyes looking up at nothing. She watched her own reflection in his broken glasses, and reached down to touch his cheek. It was cold.

She walked outside, heading towards the cemetery where she saw their graves.

 

_Lily Potter._

_January 30th, 1960 to October 31st, 1981._

 

_James Potter._

_March 27th, 1960 to October 31st, 1981._

 

Then, adjacent, another tomb appeared.

 

_Severus Tobias Snape._

_January 9th, 1960 to May 2nd, 1998._

 

Albany took this information, and pressed it deep into the vault of her memory, knowing that it would be useful at some point. So he was, essentially, destined to die? What was so special about 1998? What about 2002? She wasn’t sure, but she knew that it would be stupid to warn him directly. She would have to keep her lips, and her mind, sealed… at least for now.

She wanted to make sure she could be there, she thought, suddenly becoming resolute as the vision before her began to wash away, as though it were a soiled watercolor painting. She wanted to warn him, to save him. Why? Perhaps it was right for him to die, perhaps it had been in the name of some great cause that she did not understand yet, and likely never would. She knew that keeping him alive would be important, however, even though his death seemed to be made certain, documented, and made permanent. She didn’t quite know why, but she did.

She found herself digging furiously at the grave, dirt becoming lodged under her fingernails as she frantically unearthed a long coffin, fit for a tall man such as he was. She opened the coffin… She was met with a mother’s lullaby.

 

_Dandini dandini dastana_

_Danalar girmiş bostana_

_Kov bostancı danayı_

_Yemesin lahanayı_

_Huuu huuu huuu_

 

_Dandini dandini danadan_

_Bir ay doğmuş anadan_

_Kaçınmamış yaradan_

_Mevla korusun nazardan_

_Huuu huuu huu hu_

 

_Dandini dandini danaylı_

_Kaplarımız kalaylı_

_Kızım konak gelini_

_Oğlum olsa saraylı_

_Huu huu huu hu_

 

_Dandini dandini danaylı_

_Benim oğlum onaylık_

_On olmasın beş olsun_

_Güzellere eş olsun_

_Eee eee eee_

 

She looked back down into coffin after listening to this melody, and there was nothing inside except a small glass vial with a bit of clear liquid inside. She looked up to hear the sound of the singing, and saw that it was a woman with long, thick black hair, black eyes and light brown skin holding a child.

She reached out her arms, the child disappeared, a new one appeared. She looked back down into the coffin, and saw the felix felicis vial he had given her. She looked back up. The woman’s appearance changed slightly. She was a lot paler, a lot thinner, with sharper cheekbones and more fearful eyes, holding another bundle. She looked back down into the coffin and saw a vial of veritaserum. She looked back up.

Then there was a woman Albany couldn’t see clearly, holding _twins_ , which both fell to the ground and were promptly absorbed by the earth. She looked down, and found herself standing over the pensieve in Dumbledore’s office, her nose just centimeters away from the swirling misty water.

She felt a tap on her shoulder and whipped around to see what appeared to be Severus as a little boy holding hands with another little girl who was most certainly not Lily Evans. Severus and the girl were nearly identical, aside from the fact that the girl had fuller lips, wore glasses, and had wavy dark brown hair with the slightest hint of red.

“What are your names?” she asked, feeling as though her mouth and mind weren’t entirely aligned.

“Seweryn.”

“Eliana.”

The dream was soon infiltrated with semi-obnoxious baritone snores, and she found her eyes fluttering open, staring up at the stone ceilings that made up the rooms of the dungeons, with a man that smelled of turpentine and sandalwood and myrrh. He was holding her fast, snoring in and out of the top of her head where he was the big spoon to her little. She looked back over at him, and took him in her arms, pressing her forehead up against his, cancelling his snores with a kiss, which woke him up just enough to pull her as close as he could to him.

“Don’t leave.” he mumbled, kissing her again before continuing to snore loudly in her face.

She sighed.

 

***

 

Saturday.

She had made up a lie to Fae about where she had been the night before, and Fae seemed suspicious, but didn’t interrogate her. It was a big relief to Albany. She was hoping Fae just assumed that she had been sneaking off with Belle or another beau. People didn’t really have high expectations for her in terms of her love and sex life or her fidelity, it seemed.

She dressed, wearing light-grey knee-length cargo shorts, a purple camisole (it was her favorite color), with a teal cardigan and heeled white go-go boots. It was the style in the Muggle world at the time to have big hair, and so she decided to embrace the times and try her best with the look. She had been feeling daring this morning, and decided that it was time for a change.

She managed to clip some of the locks around the crown of her head a bit shoulder, used a product Belle gave her to turn streaks of her hair bright blue, pink, and purple, and put on some feather earrings her mother had also given her for her birthday. By the end of her mini-fantastical-makeover, she truly looked like some wild club kid from New York City. She loved it.

It was still a bit nippy outside on this June day, but the sun had come out and the outside world was just asking to be enjoyed. Albany found herself standing in a hall, staring out one of the giant windows overlooking the Black Lake and the Forbidden Forest. The air felt fresh even inside of the castle.

It had been a great night. Her dreams were one thing altogether. She had a terrific memory with dreams, so she knew she had to keep that one in the memory vaults. Otherwise, she had never experienced that kind of intimacy before, with anyone. Sure, there would always be something between them due to the events of the beating, but he had almost, _almost_ made up for it.

She had watched him there, snoring, black hair tangled and sprawled across his pillows. He was still half-dressed, wearing his daytime clothes which were hidden underneath his infamously buttoned up daily wear of black, black, and more black. She had never spent the night with someone before. She guessed that he probably hadn’t either. Sure, there was the opportunity to discuss the events, to discuss what _this_ meant, to continue to open up to one another.

Truth be told, she thought that it was all too much too soon, and that she needed to establish boundaries. She knew how possessive he could be, how obsessive he would become to whoever showed him any genuine kindness, much less any _romantic or sexual interest_ who showed him any kindness, having broken his rough exterior. Also, it was pretty important to note that he was her professor, and a notoriously nasty one at that, and the two of them would have to keep up appearances if things were to continue and not bear grudges if it ended. Albany suspected it would end quite soon. She was sure he would get out of his head and realize that he had to ‘break her heart’, but if he wouldn’t do it, she would.

She had left his room while he was still sleeping, careful not to wake him.

She found her white lacy knickers and her diary (certain pages were dog-eared, she noticed, not that she cared) and got dressed just enough without putting on her entire uniform, and casted a _revelio_ to see if anyone else was in the hall this early on a Saturday morning. Thankfully, Slytherins are logical beings, and if they don’t _have_ to get up, they won’t.

After she had gotten ready for the day and reflected adequately on the events of the past week, she stood facing the open windows by the kitchens, where had been wandering aimlessly, taking in the beauty of an empty morning castle and wondering about the feedback she’ll hear about her new look, when she was startled by no one other than Belle.

“Albany!” Belle cried.

Albany began to panic, reminding herself to keep her mind closed, pressing the thoughts of her and Severus to the back of her mind, as far back as they would go. She would deal with what happened another time. She wanted to be with a beautiful girl she fancied, at least, as long as she could.

“Buttercup!” Albany said, turning around to see Belle smiling at her. “What are you doing up so early?”

“I always get up early. I like to jog around the castle, gets my blood flowing for the rest of the day.” Belle beamed.

She proceeded to leap into Albany’s arms and kiss her deeply, smiling from ear to ear all the while, twisting her fingers through Albany’s wild curls and grabbing onto her waist. Albany didn’t even hesitate to rest a hand on Belle’s perky bum.

“You changed your look! I love it! Can I do your makeup? Just to finish things off.” Belle said with a cheery smile.

“Belle…”

“Yes?”

“It’s about time we tried something other than kissing, don’t you think?” Albany said, putting her down and looking into her brown eyes, with a rather devilish smirk on her lips. Belle broke into a nervous sweat, her pretty eyes darting in all directions.

“Where?” Belle said in a meek whisper. “Albany, I don’t know if this is right. Your father… you are not well. I don’t want to feel like I’m taking advantage of you in any way.”

“You wouldn’t be, Belle. I need the comfort. Please.” Perhaps Albany let some of her desperation show, because Belle caved.

“If you insist. I will be here for you, Albany. I will be here whenever you need me.” she said, her eyes conveying nerves more than anything. Albany became absolutely lustful, completely infatuated, overwhelmed by her attention from such a pretty, smart, kind, and passionate girl such as Belle Jia Park.

Belle leaned in and gave her a deep kiss, their tongues circling. Albany put her hands on Belle’s small, perky breasts, kneading them in her hands, causing Belle to gasp and lean in towards Albany’s working fingers as Albany pressed her into a wall.

“My love!” Albany declared like a virile conqueror, scooping up a six-and-a-half stone Belle into her arms. “Off to the Clubhouse then, I assume?”

“¡Ándale!” Belle cried with a laugh.

The ‘Clubhouse’ was their little name for the supply and storage room where Albany had been terrorized by a boggart last year. It had become a prime snogging spot and hideout for various students, though it was ruled and regulated with an iron fist by Albany Olivia Newson and Andrea Palestone.

They arrived at the Clubhouse, Albany feeling rather tired from carrying around a full-grown petite five foot tall witch all the way up a flight of stairs and down the hall. Immediately, the door closed, the dimness set in, and the two stripped as quickly as possible. Belle laid down on the floor, which they realized, albeit too late, was rather dirty and dusty, and Albany began kissing her once again, moving down to her perky breasts, sucking her nipples and drawing shameful squeaks out of Belle, before she reached her cunt, which prompted Belle to spread open her legs, giving easy access to Albany’s mouth.

She pressed her face between Belle’s thighs and ate, taking notes from both Severus and Jonas as to how to proceed with this, flicking Belle’s clitoris with her tongue before sucking it in between her own lips, slurping noisily. She looked up to see that Belle seemed to be exceptionally pleased with this all, sitting up and grabbing Albany’s face with her hands and kissing her deeply again.

“I want to please you.” Albany muttered, before grinding her own cunt against Belle’s, relishing in the friction and in the way Belle’s eyes widened with Albany’s every move.

However, she stopped once she realized that she hadn’t taken a shower after… Belle wouldn’t be happy to know that Albany might have rubbed some of a particularly loathsome Slytherin’s spunk on… Okay, time to stop. Instead, she entered her with one finger and, using her thumb, rubbed her clitoris in fast circles, causing Belle to squeak and yip, tossing her head back and forth, getting dirt and dust tangled in her sleek hair. Albany withdrew from Belle’s cunt before she realized Belle was trying this out for herself, circling slowly and carefully, acquainting herself with Albany’s anatomy, pulling low moans from her.

Belle took up Albany’s right breast in her spare hand and began to suck on it, relishing them, circling them, almost as though she were possessed. Albany put her hand down again , pressing into Belle’s clitoris before circling rapidly. Belle came in a sudden tidal wave of pleasure, making Albany feel very much accomplished, indeed. Belle fingered her for only another few moments and Albany came, shuddering and stammering, teeth clattering as she collapsed on top of Belle, nearly crushing her, and then apologizing and laying down beside her. Albany found herself exhausted, and definitely oversexed. They lay there for a few minutes before composing themselves and getting dressed.

“All before breakfast. Huh.” Belle said, grinning over at Albany. “You’re kind of wild, Albany. I couldn’t… I think I’m a lot more ‘vanilla’ than you…”

“Vanilla?” Albany panted, totally out of breath.

“I dunno, more romantic, soft, gentle.” Belle said, sitting up, running her fingers through her hair before braiding it back. “But I liked this. Thank you. Thank you for being… my first.”

They both stood up and dressed silently, stealing sly glances and casually watching one another. When they had dressed, Albany approached Belle and wrapped her arms around her. They held each other there, breathing deeply, before Albany kissed Belle again and offered her her arm. They headed off to the Great Hall for breakfast, with Albany formally invited to sit at the Hufflepuff table.

 

***

 

Albany sat at the Great Hall with the Hufflepuffs. They were kind enough to not mind a Slytherin entertaining herself amongst the kindest students in Hogwarts. Tolerance was their mantra. Bless ‘em.

Andrea was there as well, and kept sending glares Albany’s way. She had actually waited outside of Severus’s office, timing her return and making sure no… funny business… would be taking place. By the time it was after-hours, she was sure they had fucked, and it made her absolutely furious. She felt like a complete fool, letting her manipulated friend and her predatory professor trick her into making an Unforgivable Vow. She kept her mouth shut, knowing that she couldn’t ask Albany about anything unless they were absolutely private. She felt like she had been manipulated herself, like she herself had fallen prey to what was obviously Professor Snape’s lust. She figured that he was being possessive just simply because there was no way in hell another woman, much less an attractive woman like Albany, had ever paid attention to him in that way before. What sane woman would? Albany was, most certainly, _not_ sane.

Albany cuddled up next to Belle, feeling Severus’s eyes glaring at her, inquisitive, and slightly aggravated, and most definitely jealous, knowing about the illicit relationship between the gentle Hufflepuff and the fiery Slytherin. He looked into her mind across the Great Hall as though he didn’t need her permission, and narrowed his eyes once he had gotten his good look.

He had so many questions flickering through his mind the moment he woke up and saw an empty place in the bed beside him. He looked around and realized that her things were gone. So she had woken up and left him. Perhaps she was disgusted by what she had done, perhaps she had regretted it. _Fine_ . _Just fine. For the best, then._

“Why is Professor Snape staring at this table?” Belle said, nudging Albany with her elbow.

“I don’t know.” Albany lied, glancing quickly at the professors’ table.

“You know, he was very weird to me in class the other day.” Belle whispered.

“How so?” This made Albany rather nervous.

“I messed up a potion and the class had to be evacuated… but he said something about 'soiled potions, cheated exams, and people who abandon us, who use us, who treat us like swine’ and then he told me that I’m ‘digging my own grave’. Like… what does that even mean?” Belle said, glancing over at Severus again. “My God… he’s still looking over here. Is he mad at me that much? What did I do? I didn’t mean to mess up my potion!”

“Look, don’t worry about it. He can be irrational and mean, we know that. Just ignore him. Your final N.E.W.T. exam isn’t until next year, so just do your best. I don’t think it’s you, anyways. Who knows what he’s going through.” she said, knowing _exactly_ what he was going through. She actually found it very aggravating that he thought it was okay to take out his jealousy on _her_ girlfriend, who was, perhaps, the sweetest person in the whole school. She was making a concerted effort to not look over at the professors’ table.

Andrea looked at her two friends, giving them expressionless glances, but didn’t say anything. They were met with a moment of silence. Finally, Albany decided to look up. He wasn’t facing her, having been chatting with Madam Pince briefly, before returning his gaze very suddenly. She again felt the trickle of occlumency, and she opened her mind, letting him know that, just because they had ‘romantic’ sex, that she was her own person and she had a life outside of him. He scowled in her direction before returning to his meal. Andrea watched this with a frown, but Belle remained oblivious, chatting eagerly with other Hufflepuffs, wishing a bunch good luck on their upcoming final exams. They were soon interrupted.

“Hey guys! Albany, this is totally relevant to you, but did you hear that Juliet and Jonas are dating?!? They’re honestly so cute. Sorry, Albany. But look at them!” Penny exclaimed, pointing over to the Gryffindor table, where the two were snogging, arms wrapped around each other. “They’re like… total marriage material.”

Albany sighed and rolled her eyes at the display.

“Oh, does that _bother_ you, Albany? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pointed it out…” Penny began.

“No, it’s fine. They _do_ seem like good marriage material. Why, by the way, do so many wizards and witches get married and have kids so damn young? Weren’t James and Lily Potter like, only twenty? That’s crazy. Like… sure, there’s not really any required education after Hogwarts, I mean my Muggle parents were in their late thirties when they got married, but…” she began, pausing as Severus began walking down the aisle, noticeably glaring in her direction before hurrying out.

“What was that about?” Penny said, glancing in the direction where Severus disappeared and back to Albany.

“I fucked up an essay I had to write for detention. He’s just being passive-aggressive, as always.” she said, hoping to divert the conversation. She glanced at Andrea, who was staring at her with glossy eyes, biting her lip, fighting to restrain her big mouth, scared to lose her life. Albany truly felt awful knowing that the stakes had been set so high.

“You know what I need?” Albany said suddenly, standing up. “I need to speak with Firenze.”

“Firenze? Like… the centaur?” Andrea asked.

“Yeah.”

“You’re… friends… with a centaur?” Andrea asked incredulously.

“Yes, Andrea, I am. Dumbledore had me speak with him earlier this year about prophecies and being a Seer, blah blah blah. He really seems to like humans, I guess. The other centaurs aren’t big fans, so if you’re gonna talk to a centaur, just talk to Firenze. Anyways, I just feel like I need to go talk to him. I had a dream last night...” Andrea gave her a weird look. “I need to talk it out with someone.”

“But won’t we get in trouble going into the Forbidden Forest?” Belle asked.

“Yeah, don’t go. I have a bad feeling.” Penny remarked. “Plus, you’ll get into so much trouble. You don’t want to get in trouble before finals week.”

“Well, I’m going. You guys can come along if you want.” Albany muttered, nearly jogging out of the Great Hall in her ridiculous, chauvinistic go-go boots, multicolored hair flailing behind her.

Andrea looked over at Belle and sighed.

“She’s a Slytherin, she knows that she’s gonna get what she wants if she wants it enough.” Andrea muttered.

“Are you saying that we’re going to go follow her, aren’t we?” Belle sighed.

“Yeah, that was obvious. I also just want to make sure she doesn’t die by a niffler attack, or something…” Andrea said jokingly, beckoning for Belle to follow her out of the Great Hall.

They reached her while she was halfway to the Forbidden Forest, right beside their favorite little oak tree spot, the one where, Albany had later realized after her visions, Severus had been lifted by his ankle and pantsed in his fifth year. It was the spot here he called Lily Evans a _mudblood_. Would he have called her that if they had been in school together?

“Albany! Wait up!” Andrea shouted, hurrying over to her. “Just… let’s think and talk this through, alright? Why do you want to go? Why is it worth getting in trouble? Dumbledore hasn’t given you permission to speak to Firenze!”

“I really don’t know why, but I have to. My dream… It was important.” Albany sighed, looking into the trees, closing her eyes and breathing in the fresh June air. “I just need advice.”

“About what?” Belle asked.

“There are some things I need to keep secret. Involving my family, mainly. Involving… the number three...” she said, only half-lying.

“What?” Belle said, looking over at Andrea, who shrugged.

Suddenly, they were to be interrupted by a group of students who had followed the three of them out of the Great Hall.

“Look guys, it’s Rapunzel with her little Sapphic gaggle.” It was Arnold Slythorn, glancing at them with a bemused expression on his face. Bryce, Jaxton, Barnaby, Mpho, and Fae were with them, Mpho and Fae looking particularly uncomfortable, as if they regretted whatever the upperclassmen had planned for the three outcasts.

“Leave us alone!” Belle cried out, her voice shaking, her flawless complexion turning slightly red. Her silky hair was in a tight braid that had started to come undone, and her doe-like almond eyes were weak and tired of the incessant bullying she and her friends had been facing for years at Hogwarts for being ‘different’. She was, quite frankly, sick of it.

“We don’t give a shit about you, you ‘puff.” Jaxton cried out, turning his attention to Andrea. “You’re just another smartass. We’re here for the real freakshow.”

“Jaxton, please, stop.” Andrea growled.

“She’s a fucking filthy _mudblood_ thinks she’s such a little beauty queen. She’s actually an ugly cunt, what, with that fat arse and those saggy tits of hers. A real big whore, a _disgrace_ to Slytherin!” Bryce spat. Mpho looked completely taken aback and started heading back to the castle, before Arnold stopped him with a cold gaze.

“Okay, Bryce, that’s not really necessary…” said Jaxton.

“Say that again. I fucking dare you.” Albany growled through gritted teeth.

“You’re a little _mudblood_ whore. My parents would rape and kill scum like you, back when the Dark Lord was still with us. They were doing the right thing. He _will_ come back.” Bryce said, a truly wicked look in his flashing electric blue eyes. The worst part was, Albany knew that he was right.

“Bryce, that’s too far…” Arnold said, clearly becoming highly uncomfortable himself. “I thought we were here just to talk, to establish things… not to fight each other.”

“Yeah, Bryce. That’s enough.” Jaxton muttered, looking down at the ground.

Mpho, Fae and Barnaby backed up from the crowd, in complete horror.

“No! It’s not too far. It’s about time someone stood up to people like her. It’s about time someone put her in her place.” Bryce screeched, drawing his wand.

Albany could feel her heart pounding in her chest, twice its normal speed. She drew her wand and assumed the dueling stance. Belle and Andrea hurried away, pressing their bodies against the oak tree out of the line of fire, fearful of Albany’s infamous temper and whatever a hysterical Bryce Antony Razget had in store for her. Albany began to panic as Fae and Jaxton also stepped forward, wands drawn and at the ready.

Albany turned around to see that Andrea had confidently drawn her lovely, reliable and rigid fir wood wand with unicorn hair core. Belle looked in a state of shock, unable to draw her wand at all. Albany didn’t blame her. She knew for a fact that Belle wasn’t a dueller in any sense, and she hadn’t yet discovered her beech wand’s full potential.

“ _Depulso!_ ” Jaxton shouted, sending Albany flying back towards the oak tree, missing Belle by just feet. She had hit her head, saw stars, and fell down to the ground.

“ _Confringo!_ ” Bryce shouted after Albany stood up on shaky legs and started to move away from the oak tree, hitting the ground behind her in a burst of flames, missing her by only several feet. “ _Diffindo!_ ” he shouted, though Albany blocked this spell with a mumbled, “ _Protego…_ ”

“ _Aguamenti!_ ” Fae awkwardly cast, hoping for revenge from fourth year, though Albany deflected this spell easily.

Andrea ran in front of her and shouted, “ _Impedimenta!_ ”, effectively blocking Jaxton and Fae from approaching them, though Bryce had already approached fast.

Bryce, being a ruthless sixth year, had the upper hand. He cast a swarm of spells wordlessly, which both witches struggled to deflect and dodge, but one wordless _flipendo_ sent Andrea flying twenty feet, landing hard on her side. He didn’t care about her, she was a pure-blood, after all. He only had one person in mind.

Soon, Jaxton and Fae began advancing, though with much less enthusiasm. Fae was getting what she wanted, supposedly, although revenge didn’t quite taste as sweet as she thought it would. Jaxton wanted to help out Fae, but wasn’t feeling particularly good about this conflict either. Bryce was simply consumed with bloodlust.

Andrea was standing up on shaky arms, having been bruised by her fall. She ran up to Albany, and flanked her side, glaring at their attackers, daring them to keep fighting.

“Please, stop, you guys!” Belle cried, attempting to run into the midst of the battle before Bryce cast _Petrificus Totalis_ , watching as her immobilized body fell to the earth with a thud.

“Don’t. You. Dare. Hurt. Them. Enough of this! Put away your wands!” Andrea shrieked. She put away hers as a demonstration. “I swear, when we get back into the castle, we are going to tell Dumbledore and get you all _expelled_ ! Do you hear me? How dare you try to _assault_ us, on school grounds as well!” she gasped, before running over to Belle’s body and casting _rennerverate_. Belle blinked her eyes and began to cough, taking Andrea’s arm as she helped her up.

“You all should be ashamed of yourselves.” Andrea growled over her shoulder.

“I’m not ashamed.” Bryce spat. “I don’t care one bit about you, Palestone. I care about a slut making Slytherin look like a complete joke.”

“Fuck. You.” Albany spat.

“You’re a little _mudblood_ bitch, and I don’t even care what happens to me. I’ll be a martyr for Slytherin. I’ll be the one who gets rid of you…”

Hoping to disarm him as soon as possible and put an end to this conflict, Albany shouted, “ _Expelliarmus!_ ”, only to be met with an Unforgivable Curse.

“ _Avada Kedavra!_ ” Bryce shouted, the bright green spew of the horrible spell missing Albany’s chest by millimeters.

Her own spell missed, the red stream flying just right of him. Her heart pounded, her life flashed before her eyes. She entered a state of shock, frozen, her arms trembling as she dropped her wand and her jaw.

“What the fuck, Bryce! Cut it out!” Fae shouted.

“Albany… are you ok…” Andrea said, equally shocked.

“Bryce, as prefect I do need to report this…” Arnold began.

“That’s messed up, Bryce!” Barnaby cried out.

Mpho looked absolutely shocked, tempted to run and also tempted to rescue Albany.

“My parents knew what they were doing. They wanted to get rid of filthy _mudbloods_ like this one, tainting our house. Don’t try to stop me!” Bryce had gone completely mental. It was as though he was under the Imperius Curse himself…

Albany found herself shaking uncontrollably, her vision going spotty as she began to have a full blown panic attack. Her knees were weak, and she felt like collapsing onto the foliage. She was completely unprepared for what came next. All she remembered was Bryce advancing on her, wand in hand, a completely deranged look on his face.

“ _Crucio!_ ”

Albany had never before experienced so much pain. Her body writhed as she completely lost control of her muscles. She felt her internal organs collapse, her ribs crack, her neck jerking back in forth in all sorts of painful directions. At first she was quiet, and then she began to scream. It was primal and it was hoarse, and it wrecked her entire body.

“Stop, stop! Bryce! Stop!”

“Shut the fuck up, half-blood. She’s earned it.”

“Bryce! Stop! Stop!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll go run and get Dumbledore and the first professor I see! Just make sure he doesn’t kill her!” Arnold yelled.

“Bryce, you’re hurting her! Stop! Stop!”

“Stop!”

Albany kept writhing, spit flowing down her jaw, which had likely been broken by this point, her fingers contorting in all sorts of intolerable positions, her body being thrown back and forth by her spasms. She screamed and screamed and screamed, briefly losing consciousness while being thrust back to reality again and again and again. All she hoped for was to die from this, for her life to end, for her world to go dark.

“ _Stupefy!_ ” Andrea screamed. Albany heard a distinct thud of a heavy body landing flat on the ground.

Suddenly, the pain stopped, and Albany’s muscles softened, the ache of pain still throbbing throughout her entire body.

“Albany! Albany!” Belle’s scent filled her senses as she cradled Albany’s head in her lap. Belle’s warm tears stained her face.

“You’re okay, you’re okay. I stunned him. We have time, they’re getting someone. Is she awake? Oh, God...” Andrea began to stroke Albany’s hair, which had become a tangled, multicolored, dirty mess from flailing in the underbrush.

“I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry…” Mpho said through sobs, leaning over her body alongside Fae, who did seem genuinely concerned as well. Barnaby was in complete shock, unsure of what to do. Arnold had gone to fetch Dumbledore, although any Professor would do at this point.

Albany lay there, waiting, in her loyal friends’ arms, falling in and out of consciousness. Her abdomen was absolutely throbbing; it felt as though someone had tried to rip out her intestines. She moaned and squirmed, grabbing onto the top of her cargo shorts so as to fight back the surge of pain which still lingered deep inside her.

“I’m… I’m fine…” she said, still shaking from the aftershocks of the curse. “It’s okay… I’m fine, don’t worry about it… I’m tough… Don’t worry…” She began to cough, causing her to wince.

“Get out of here!” she heard Andrea shout at the other Slytherins, including Mpho. “Oh, Albany… Oh. Oh my God…” She felt Andrea’s hand rest softly on her belly, just hardly touching.

“She’s… She’s bleeding! She’s bleeding through her shorts!” Belle gasped. “Someone has to take her to Pomfrey! Oh my God… does this mean what I think it means?”

“I think it does. Oh, God… I could have done something… I could have made sure she was safe...” Andrea cried, delicately wrapping her arms around Albany, whose eyes had now fluttered open, squinting up at the bright June sun overhead. “I could have… I could have done something…”

“What are you talking about? I’m fine…” Albany said, reaching to get up but being met again by the pounding pulse in her abdomen and around her cracked ribs and jaw. “Ow, shit.” she sighed, letting herself fall back onto the ground. “I just need to take a nap… Yeah, a nap would be nice...” she mumbled through half-open lids as she sprawled out her limbs, letting the grass tickle her fingertips.

Albany closed her eyes, attempting to regain control of her breathing, smelling the air around her and feeling thankful for life, for her survival. She was itching to move, itching to stand up and tell her friends that everything was okay.

Soon, she felt heavy wool pressed up against her, and smelled a familiar scent, the slightest hint of turpentine and a strong smell of myrrh and sandalwood. She slowly, without knowing what she was doing, took her hand and wrapped it around the edges of his robe, holding it tightly in her fist, just barely feeling the heat of his chest where her knuckles lightly touched him. Her head fell slack as though she were a newborn. Her eyes opened again, and she stared, unblinking, up at the sun, listening to his heavy breathing as he ran, carrying her in his arms, back to the castle. She closed her eyes. The world became dark.

 

***

 

The Razget fool was promptly expelled and sent to Azkaban where he was awaiting his trial. They were known as Unforgivable Curses for a reason.

Severus sat in his sitting room, his third glass of scotch in his hand, staring into his flickering green fireplace, scared to move a muscle. How did she deserve any of that? Sure, she was insufferable and seemed to always be looking for trouble, but she did not deserve _that_. A young, lively young woman with her whole life ahead of her did not deserve to be tortured.

He wanted to visit her in the Hospital Wing, although he was afraid this would arouse suspicion. He had to remain aloof, non-partisan, always keeping up appearances. He later realized he was staring a bit much at the Hufflepuff table, taking in what she had done with her hair, as well as the strange clothes she was wearing. She was clearly wearing a push-up bra, and he admired her pale, slightly flushed cleavage and small garnet necklace.  

He had grown paranoid, though for good reason. There was no way he could risk his position, what with Hogwarts being his only home, and the impending arrival of one Harry Potter close at hand. He was sure that the revitalization of the Order of the Phoenix was also inevitable.

The thing that horrified him was all the blood. It had soiled his robes, though no one was able to tell. One reason he had taken to wear black, other than to hide his body, was to have less obvious blood stains when out with his fellow Death Eaters. This made torture all the more excruciating, however: Voldemort wasn’t satisfied until he saw blood dripping onto the floor.

The stains didn’t bother him, per say, but it did make him rather sad. He pitied her, he felt her pain, he wanted to choke the members of his own house who wished to ruin her to death. Of course, that was off the table.

By the time her uniform had been transfigured into hospital robes, it was clear that something was horribly, horribly wrong. Almost immediately, blood soaked through the light uniform and even Pomfrey gasped in shock.

She had miscarried. Who knows how many weeks along she was, or whether she was even aware she had been pregnant. She had obviously been reckless with Mister Cunningway, this was obvious even in her everyday conduct, but no one deserved to discover their pregnancy after enduring such a curse, ripping the developing life from her.

In fact, she had no choice in the matter, which made him sick. It made his skin crawl. It brought up memories of life on Spinner’s End which he really did not want to relive. He had seen it happen with some Muggle or Muggle-Born women the Death Eaters had tortured or mutilated before. Bellatrix was especially sadistic, obsessed with ripping the fetuses out of pregnant women before proceeding to tear their babies limb from limb. When he was forced to watch, he had tried so hard to repress his nausea and his utter repulsion and would have nightmares for weeks.

He also wondered if his own treatment of her… in that dream… was another contributing factor. He had been utterly brutal. Did his own actions precipitate that? Had her beating been another factor in her miscarriage? Could it have contributed? Oh, this brought up memories he certainly did not wish to relive from Spinner’s End.

He, then and there, pledged to protect and to care for her, just as he did with Lily, to make sure she remained safe and healthy. He wanted to hold her in his arms, to breathe in her hair, the smell of her smooth skin, and her tangy breath which would come out to shuddered breaths. He found her mouth to be absolutely delicious. He wanted to suckle on her ripe breasts, he wanted to watch her chest flush, he wanted to run his hands over the curves of her waist and stomach. He wanted to stroke the back of his hand against her flesh, to be inside her, to relish her and let her know, in no uncertain terms, that he was here for her. How had it come to this? From beating her and calling her a _mudblood_ in a dream, to wanting to spend the rest of his life with her.

_She’s not Lily, Sev._

He noticed that he was hard immediately when thinking about her. He laid back on his couch and undid his many buttons. He grabbed his cock and soon found himself rapidly stroking, moaning loudly, until he came, nearly screaming at the sweet release he felt, his eyes rolling to the back of his, racking his body with shudders. _You’re a disgusting pervert, Sev._

He wanted her here, with him. Now.

However, she was sitting in the hospital wing, mourning the loss of her child, likely feeling as empty and forlorn as his mother had felt. How she ever got through Severus’s pregnancy, he wouldn’t ever know.

Albany was likely there, being tended by Pomfrey, drinking potions that he himself had brewed, being tended to by ingredients and plants he himself picked. It wasn’t common knowledge that Severus Snape went out to the Forbidden Forest frequently to pick flowers, of all people.

He wanted to strangle Jonas Cunningway, though he knew the little prick was bound to graduate, become an auror, marry a nice woman, find success, et cetera. He was Head Boy, after all. The handsome leading man of Gryffindor. _Just like James._

Albany was right when she said that she wasn’t Lily. She was nothing like Lily. Only a fool could think the two were alike. Lily was refined, a bit prudish, soft-spoken, moral, kind, courageous, empathetic…

Albany was consumed by her emotions, quick witted, sharp-tongued, sometimes downright cruel. She had no qualms about verbally destroying the person who had hurt her or anyone she cared about. The closest thing Lily ever got to verbally bashing Severus was, on the Horrible Day, she made fun of his shorts after the Marauders had dropped him back onto the ground, having pantsed him mid-air. He had called her a _mudblood_ ; she could’ve been a lot angrier. He shut his brain off from those memories. They were irrelevant now. He only cared about Albany, and he knew, in this moment, that he would do wild things to ensure her safety. He would have to.

Earlier that day he had been told to have a house meeting with all the Slytherins, including those involved in the incident. He had gathered them in the Common Room, and, although he walked in wanting to keep his composure, seeing all of their bratty, slimy wide-eyed faces staring at him slack-jawed, it sent him over the edge into a rage he hadn’t experienced in years. Admittedly, he could have used a Calming Draught to tamper down his anger. Or two. Or three.

“I suppose many of you know why we are having a House Meeting tonight. Apologies if you were woken up at an _inconvenient_ hour, but it has come to our attention that some students in this house felt that it was their right to attack fellow students, including a fellow Slytherin, on school grounds. Furthermore, one of said students attempted to use two Unforgivable Curses, one of which successfully hit his target. You’ve heard rumours, but I would like to dispel them. Bryce Anthony Razget is a _foul_ git who has been sent to Azkaban for the use of the Cruciatus Curse on a fellow Slytherin.” he said through gritted teeth, standing in front of the Common Room fireplace, fighting the urge to tear the room to shreds. There was an audible gasp, and Severus had to fight the urge to roll his eyes.

“He had attempted to use the killing curse on said Slytherin as well. He _missed_.” Severus said, almost trembling from the rage he felt building up.

“Capricia Fae Donna Prizmik and Jaxton Myerscough were two who also attempted to engage offensively with the other party. They did not cast Unforgivable Curses, but will be stripped of their Hogsmeade privileges and will be attending detention with Dumbledore or Filch for the whole of the upcoming school year.” Severus said, staring into Fae’s and Jaxton’s eyes, causing heads to turn and scowl at them.

“You both could have been, and should have been, _expelled_ .” he began, approaching them menacingly. “I’m afraid that wouldn’t happen, would it? I know for a fact that _mummy_ and _daddy_ would be quite angry if their precious little _babies_ were to be thrown out of Hogwarts, what, given the books, materials, artefacts, and hundreds of thousands of galleons they have donated to the school?” Fae and Jaxton blushed and looked down at their laps.

“I have also been informed that Mpho Oliphant, Barnaby Lee, and our own prefect, Arnold Slythorn, were also involved in the conflict, though they did not engage. Arnold, would you care to explain yourself and the actions of your… _friends_?” Severus wanted to see him stumble, to see him suffer. Arnold’s jaw hung open, he didn’t know how to react or what to say.

“Well, Arnold, you are quite lucky given that you will be leaving soon. It is not the case for Mister Oliphant and Mister Lee, now is it? Does it feel _good_ , Arnold, as prefect and as a role-model for this house, to let those younger than you bear the burdens of your _stupid_ mistakes? Or do you not care?”

“I… I will take the blame, Professor Snape.” Arnold said, gathering enough courage to look into Severus’s black, furious eyes. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Care to elaborate for the rest of us?”

“I… I… I don’t know why I did it. _I_ gathered everyone, Professor. She was… she was… She was leaving the Great Hall and we just wanted to prank her, to maybe scare her. I never wanted this to happen. _Not to a Slytherin._ ” Arnold said, Severus cocking his head to the side at that last part. He cleared his throat, knowing that his speech was nearing its crescendo.

“Now, for the ‘elephant in the room’, as they say. There is the issue of blood purity in this house. It is well known that Salazar Slytherin was a blood purist, and Slytherin has, throughout the years, been the house of many with an interest in blood purity, including You-Know-Who.” he began, highly articulating the Dark Lord’s little nickname.

“The victim of the attack was targeted due to the attacker’s fanatical devotion to blood purity. The fool will now sit in Azkaban for the rest of his years… The Dark Lord is _gone_ , he is _dead_ . We do not harm other Slytherins.” he said, narrowing his eyes, perceiving who believed him and who didn’t. “Slytherins are… unique. We value our cunning, our ambition, and our resilience. We are strong _together_.” he said, scowling at anyone who attempted to avert their gaze, before sweeping his long robes away and returning to his private quarters to pour himself several drinks. He knew the Dark Lord wasn’t truly dead. Dumbledore had already warned him of that. Dumbledore did trust him, after all.

 

***

 

Albany Olivia Newson had been writing poems in her diary. None of it had been in prose.

One had entranced him in particular, and he found himself reading it over and over again when he was in his private chambers, memorizing it word for word, ingraining it into his memory, giving him a bit of courage. She had written in the margin that wrote this poem after she had briefly spoken with Helena Ravenclaw after returning to the dungeons after an evening of studying in the library. She did not write about what they spoke about, though the poem was telling enough.

 

_November 4th, 1988_

 

_Tentatively,_

_You take each burning log and toss them_

_Into the fire pit,_

_Glowing of embers which consume wood,_

_Which speak with one another_

_An unintelligible language._

_Your mouth speaks this language,_

_And when you smile at me,_

_I look inside to see if there are embers,_

 

_But I see nothing except the darkness_

_Of mouth._

 

Then, on the following page, there was a brief note that made Severus think for a while, making him miss his mother, demanding her to return to him. He wanted nothing more than to raise her from the dead, to feel her warm hands wrap around him, to feel their skeletal forms grasp each other, finding solace and peace and happiness. He had always felt safer around women, he had always been threatened by men throughout his life. The thought of Voldemort, Tom Riddle, the Dark Lord, You-Know-Who, whatever the fuck he wanted to be called, returning, made him shudder. It was enough to change his boggart, he mused to himself.

He felt the pang of heart and his mind again. It was Eileen Prince, _Eliana Fedakârlık Prinz_ , demanding him to find a way to speak to him, to absolve him of his sins, to remind him that it was alright to cry. He hadn’t cried since he was a child. Tears were powerful things. They had _memories_ , they had power, they had meaning. He would give Albany all the tears in the world, he suddenly thought. He immediately grew scared of his passion, and began thinking about ways to tamper it down. _Oh Gods, no. You’re embarrassing yourself. Grow up, Sev. You’re mourning Lily, remember? You fucking idiot, fancying a schoolgirl and carrying on this way. Grow. Up._

He suddenly found himself wondering what Albany’s own mother was like. He had very deliberately avoided seeing or meeting her when they had been training that summer in Blacksfield, which felt like so long ago. He wondered how she must be now that her husband was dead. Where had she gone? Was it safe for Albany to be going home for the summer? What was she going to be doing, anyways? Did he… Did he want to be there with her? No one would recognize them. No one would know.

 

_January 9th, 1989_

 

_A burst of strange light_

_engulfs me like a cocoon —_

_— motherly comfort._

 

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music!
> 
> 1\. Snake Song (Isobel Campbell & Mark Lanegan): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHQUfgq1seM
> 
> 2\. Release The Bats (The Birthday Party): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yaWn0qcRYFA
> 
> 3\. Oedipus, Z. 583: II. Music for a While (First Priest) (Henry Purcell): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C1cMqQH6jUA
> 
> Lyrics from the Oedipus song (I find them exceptionally beautiful) ~~~
> 
> Music, music for a while  
> Shall all your cares beguile.  
> Shall all, all, etc...  
> Shall all your cares beguile  
> Wond'ring, wond'ring  
> how your pains were eased, eased, eased  
> And disdaining to be pleased  
> 'Til Alecto free the dead  
> 'Til Alecto free the dead  
> From their eternal bands  
> 'Til the snakes drop, drop, drop  
> Drop, drop, drop, drop, drop from her head  
> And the whip,  
> And the whip from out her hand  
> Music, music for a while  
> Shall all your cares beguile.  
> Shall all, all, etc...  
> Shall all your cares beguile  
> Shall all your cares beguile
> 
>  
> 
> Oh... those snakes.
> 
> Here is the Turkish lullaby (can anyone make the connection?): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ILeu7kyFFuA


	18. Come On, Eileen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albany takes her O.W.L.s and receives her results, Albany dreams of Eileen, the end of year celebrations ensues, and Albany and Severus head out to the Forbidden Forest.

 

***

 

Albany spent an entire week in the hospital, the last week of term, to be exact. It wasn’t like she was really missing all that much, anyways. She was permitted to take her O.W.L.s in her bed, all with the anti-cheating enchanted quill, of course.

Professor Sprout visited her in the hospital, even going so far as to give her a gift of exotic iridescent flowers and some chocolate frogs.

“I hope the best for you, dear. You did quite well on your O.W.L.s in my class, Miss Newson.” she said with a soft, sweet, honest smile. “You were one of the highest scorers, as a matter of fact! Sorry, spoilers. You get better now, love, and I can’t wait to see you next year in my N.E.W.T. class!”

“Thank you, Professor. You’re too kind.” she said, giving her a weak smile.

“Well, I am the Head of Hufflepuff House, Miss Newson. I better be kind!” she said, giving Albany a pat on her hand and heading out of the Hospital Ward.

All the other professors appeared to be too busy to visit her, which she really didn’t mind one bit. However, by Wednesday Albany was crying herself to sleep over the fact that Severus hadn’t come by. Sure, he was the one who found her and brought her to the Hospital Ward, but couldn’t he pay a visit? She would later come to realize that doing so might arouse suspicions, and she agreed that it was probably for the best. She knew that she needed to tamper their budding ‘relationship’ or else everything would fall apart for the both of them.

Andrea, Belle, Mpho, Fae, Arnold, Barnaby, Penny, Andre, and Jaxton all came to visit.

She had been deep in thought, wondering what she could have done differently. She could have been more careful messing around. She could have been less of a _slut_ , she thought to herself. She could have respected her body more. She could have better distinguished realities, made better decisions, and been more honest with other people and herself.

She knew Severus must be thinking that he could have contributed to her miscarriage in some way. One Cruciatus Curse wouldn’t be sufficient. It was even a weak one, she was told. It could have been so much worse, though she did appreciate being given her first test of real pain. Additionally, the miscarriage was more painful because she had been 14 weeks, according to Madam Pomfrey. That was quite the amount of time…

She had been a complete idiot. She had _indeed_ become a receptacle for Jonas’s prick. He had let Severus, her professor, her superior, use her as a kind of toy for his pleasure. He had gotten too emotionally attached to her as well, which wasn’t surprising considering his history with Lily. She wondered how many other people knew about Severus and Lily. It couldn’t have been too big a secret, she thought. They must have been seen as friends by other students, at least, until he called _that_ word. What assumptions were made about the two of them post-graduation and post-Voldemort’s demise?

She had lost a child. She had lost life. She was alone, she was abandoned. Her father was gone, she had no idea where her mother was, her first real boyfriend broke up with her, she was bisexual and the whole school found it hilarious, and she had slept with her professor who was, not only the most hated professor in the school, but one who had been a Death Eater and had killed people like her. He had even called her a _mudblood_ himself. What a fucking great year it had been. She was incredibly bitter, absolutely infuriated, clutching the sanitized sheets of the Hospital Ward until her knuckles turned white. Pomfrey told her that she would be discharged by the end of the day on Friday, but she was impatient. She wanted to get the hell out of this shithole school. She wanted nothing more than to go to her bedroom in Blacksfield and sleep forever. She wanted to kill herself more than she had ever before. Forget traveling Europe with Andrea and her balanced family and perfect American boyfriend.

She stared out the windows of the Hospital Ward, silent tears dripping down her face. Time became a blur, Pomfrey transfigured her hospital gown back into her clothing, and she waddled her way out of the Hospital Wing (she was still sore and bleeding ever so slightly). By the time she reached the dungeons, she felt completely exhausted. She was walking down the hallway towards the Slytherin Common Room, and paused for a moment, leaning on the side of a stone wall before collapsing onto the ground in a fit of tears. Sobs racked her body, she felt dizzy and lightheaded and nauseous beyond belief. She genuinely believed, in that moment, that she deserved the Cruciatus Curse, that Bryce was doing the right thing. She felt that she didn’t deserve to live, and found herself muttering this over and over again in a whisper into her knees, which were tucked up so as to hide her face from an empty corridor.

“Miss Newson.” It was Severus. She looked up and scowled at him.

“The _fuck_ do you want?” she growled, standing up on shaky legs and glaring up at him.

“I would like to speak to you. In my office, if you don’t mind?” he said, his voice soft, smooth, patient. It was very out of character for Severus Snape. “If that is… okay for you.”

She was tempted to scream at him, to make a scene, to lash out. However, she remembered that, besides her friends, there was no one else who was quite like Severus Snape, nor could there ever be. There was something great about him, something important, something incredibly special. He hid it well behind the disguise of a loathsome, mean, and bitter professor at a school for children when he, obviously, wasn’t fond of them at all. That was quite the façade he had put on, quite the disguise, indeed.

“Alright.” she mumbled, following him as he walked with long strides to the office.

“Albany, how do you feel? Do you… do you need anything for the pain or… anything?” he began, cupping her face in his hands and looking at her with all the tenderness in the world.

“I don’t know what I want.” she said, her eyes glossing over. “Can we talk in your sitting room?”

“Of course, whatever you want.” he said, taking her by the shoulder and walking her inside, where he cast special locking charms on all the doors so as to not be disturbed.

“I deserved it.” she said, plopping down on the couch and tucking up her legs so that her chin rested on her knees. “I am the joke of Slytherin. It wasn’t all that bad, really. I’d go through it again. I deserve to feel pain.”

“No. I have endured the Cruciatus Curse numerous times, and no one deserves that. You… you are a beautiful, intelligent, articulate, kind young woman who has the world at her fingertips. You do, Albany. I mean it all.” Severus said, sitting down on the couch and taking her hands in his.

Albany jerked her hands away. “You’re not supposed to protect me, Severus. I’m supposed to protect myself, or not. I can do what I please.”

“I never said that you couldn’t, I just want to make sure…”

“Severus, just because we had sex doesn’t mean that you’re my _boyfriend_ or the boss of me. You don’t have to have a pity party for me everytime we’re together.” Albany said, turning her body away from him.

“ _Boyfriend_?” Severus asked, as though not believing that that word had ever escaped from someone’s mouth in relation to him. “I… I… I just care about you. What more do you want from me?”

“Look at you, trying to make me feel bad about not being so appreciative and thankful. Well, I’ll have you know, _Snivellus_ , that I want nothing more to do with you!” she said, jolting out of her seat. Severus tensed up when she used that horrible nickname. _How does she know…_

“I’m actually really, really happy that I’m not going to take your class next year because, quite frankly, I don’t want to see you ever again. I don’t want to talk to you again, I don’t want to…” she began, before he held her tight and she burst into tears in his arms. “Oh God… oh God… I’m… I’m… sorry!”

He held her and kissed the top of her head as she completely lost control, her body and mind going blank, enveloped with shudders and spasms, her tears damp against his chest. She apologized over and over again, before pulling herself away and collapsing back down onto the couch, where he took her head and rested it on his lap, stroking her hair. He had never done this for anyone before, and immediately thought of his mother doing the same to him long ago.

“Severus… I shouldn’t have said that. I’m scared. I’m sad. I don’t know who I am, what I am, or what I’m meant to do. I feel like I… I ruin everything for everyone. Life has brought me nothing but pain. _I want to die._ ”

The last utterance prompted Severus to take her by the shoulders and wrench her up towards his face so he could look straight into her eyes. “You will not do that.” She stared at him, their eyes locked, they held a firm gaze. Severus penetrated her mind, and saw nothing but fear and despair and hopelessness there. He drew her in, embracing her, their chests pressing up against one another.

“I should go.” she whispered after around twenty minutes of this. “Thank you, Severus.” She lightly pecked his mouth with a quick kiss before shaking herself of his embrace and heading back to her dormitory.

Severus held his head in his hands, and began to sob, piteously, as though he were once again that little lost, battered boy living in Spinner’s End, trying to protect a mother who didn’t love him enough to leave Tobias Snape, son of Donald Donaidh Snape and Isobel Shone, two individuals Severus never met but who were also parts of the grand scheme, the clockwork, the gears and pins of the incessant cycle of familial suffering and loss. He was so afraid of being a father, hence why he never tried to make a family of his own after the Dark Lord’s demise. What kind of sick father would he be? Would he be like his own? Would he… no.

 

***

 

Albany walked through her dream, empowered by her control over it, emboldened by the heightened sensory steps that raked through her body as her bare foot made contact with the cold stone of the castle’s halls.

_Come on, Eileen… Come on, Eileen…_

There they were, fingers interlocked, staring at each other with wonderment. She knew this was just a fantasy, it was simply a wish. They were clean, they were handsome, they were filled to the brim with love for one another and a love for life. They were smiling, practically beaming, at one another. This was a desire, a wish, a need to possess, to embalm this false memory into truth, into hope, when such was impossible or entirely futile.

_Poor old Johnny Ray sounded sad upon the radio, but he moved a million hearts in mono… Our mothers cried, sang along, who'd blame them?_

Snow was coming down, the ground was enveloped in it, made pure. Albany had loved the winters at Hogwarts. They had been wonderful. She loved trudging around to Hagrid’s Hut or making snow angels with her friends. However, now there was a kind of adult perspective on winter, on leisure, on playful activities. She watched them again. They had sat down on a piece of stone in the Clocktower Courtyard, letting go of each other’s hands and looking in opposite directions, before running from one another and vanishing entirely into a sudden surge of snow flurries which erupted in Albany’s face, causing it to go numb entirely.

_You're grown… so grown up... So grown…  so grown up... Now, I must say more than ever… Come on, Eileen... Too ra loo ra too ra loo rye aye… And we can sing just like our fathers…_

“Albany!” It was Andrea, appearing in her dream. “You have to promise to remember something for me, okay?”

“Are you really her?” Albany asked, her mouth feeling again as though it were working in slow-motion.

“No, I am your inner voice, manifested in the form of your snarky best friend. Now, you need to listen to me and listen very closely. _Come on Eileen, oh I swear what he means... at this moment, you mean everything. You in that dress, my thoughts I confess, verge on dirty… Ah, come on, Eileen…_ That was your dad’s favorite song! Dexys Midnight Runners? 1983? Good shit. _”_

Andrea had turned into a small, frail woman with a sharp nose, cheekbones, and thin, pursued lips. Her hair was long and black, adorned with split ends and in need of a trim. Her eyes were pitch black, full of anxiety and trepidation. Nonetheless, there was something quite pretty about her, thin wrists and all.

_Was machst du in meinem Traum?_

“What are you doing in my dream?” the woman asked, her eyes frantic, looking Albany up and down, instinctively analyzing her as a possible threat.

“You think this is your dream?” Albany asked. “This is mine. Are you Eileen Prince? I… I am a friend of your son.”

_Ich möchte nicht, dass mein Sohn ein Märtyrer ist._

“I don’t want my son to be a martyr.” Eileen said, a few tears flowing down the corners of her face.

She shuddered in the cold, only wearing a slightly torn black dress which hung from her skeletal body. Albany found herself approaching the woman and wrapping her arms around her, as though this embrace was her lifeblood. The moment she drew away, however, Eileen Prince did disappear, and Albany’s fingers were left grasping at nothing.

_These people 'round here wear beat down eyes sunk in smoke dried faces. They're resigned to what their fate is. But not us, no, never, no, not us, no, never... We are far to young and clever. Remember, Too ra loo ra too ra loo rye aye, and you'll hum this tune forever…_

There they were. Eileen was held fast in a tender kiss by a tall, strong man with sandy blonde hair and green eyes. Albany looked away, and found herself lying in the snow, not feeling the cold at all, staring up at the Clocktower, feeling more rested and peaceful than she had ever felt in her entire life.

_Come on Eileen, let’s take off that pretty red dress… Now you’re full grown._

“Please…” Albany sat up, seeing a woman sitting next to her who she did not recognize at all. “He too found me in Albania.”

“Quirrell?”

“No. _Him_.”

“You… the Dark Lord?” Albany panicked. “They say he’s gone.”

“No, he was there for me. He spoke to me. He… we are one now.” the woman said, sighing, letting her own silky black hair contrast with the whiteness of the snow as snowflakes accumulated across her face, dress and neck. “He’s all I have.”

“That can’t be true. You can… you can do more with yourself…” Albany didn’t quite know what the woman was saying, or what she herself was saying.

“I bite.” the woman said, before disappearing.

The sound of hissing shook the scene, it rattled Albany’s mind and her bones.

_At this moment, you mean everything. In that dress, oh, my thoughts I confess… Well, they're dirty… Come on, Eileen._

“Look into my poison.”

“What is your name?”

“Nagini.”

“What do you do?”

“I bite.”

 

***

 

Albany received her O.W.L.s results, and was, quite frankly, rather pleasantly replied. She had scored an A in Transfiguration, E in Charms, E in Potions (she was proud of herself, though a bit relieved she wouldn’t be taking Professor Snape’s infamous N.E.W.T. class), E in History of Magic, O in Herbology, O in Care of Magical Creatures, a very easy O in Muggle Studies (Professor Quirrell, the stuttering eccentric, really took a strong liking to her for some reason), O in Divination (Trelawney still pretended she wasn’t special), and one pathetic A in Defense Against The Dark Arts. She simply couldn’t cast a Patronus Charm to save her life, and Rakepick was thoroughly disappointed in her, and made her sentiments very much obvious. Albany wondered if she could ask Severus over the summer to help her with that after she had returned home after her upcoming trip across Europe with the Palestone family. She knew it was an important spell to know, and though she did have a nice life at one point, she simply didn’t have it in her to conjure happy memories on a whim like everyone else seemed to.

She was immensely proud of herself. She had skipped three years of school, she’d been the victim of terrible bullying, she’d been crucio’d for Christ’s sake, and she took the written portion of her exams from a goddamn hospital bed. The parts that involved hand-on (or technically wand-on) work or brewing was done alongside others, though they all could tell her discomfort and rumours were spreading about what else happened besides her being afflicted with The Cruciatus Curse.

The damn rumours were what was really getting to her out of all of this. Everyone wanted to know what had happened, and people definitely figured out that there was a good chance she had a miscarriage because she had been tortured and some had even seen Professor Snape carrying a bleeding Albany to the Hospital Ward and barking at anyone in his way. Everyone jokingly wondered who the father was, despite her having dated Jonas for six whole months. People had very low opinions of her, and often used derogatory terms when speaking about her to one another behind her back. She had grown used to it, though her patience was beginning to thin when it came to dealing with such people on a daily basis. At least Slytherins had the nerve to say it to her face. The Gryffindors would have picked on her more if it weren’t for the fact that her blood status within a purist house made her more easily pitiable.

Severus tried with all his might not to watch Albany as she was sitting with her Hufflepuff lover, her Ravenclaw best friend, and her little Slytherin minion, all at the end of the Hufflepuff table, isolated from their respective houses. Her nimble fingers picked at her sandwich, clearly distracted, clearly forlorn. He knew nothing had been going very well for her, and he knew that there was an almost overwhelming sensation of fear in her heart and in her mind. He didn’t have to use legilimency to determine that.

“Albany.” It was Jonas. He stood, looking down at her, a softness in his eyes. “We need to talk.”

“I thought I had told you that I never wanted to speak to you again, Jonas Cunningway.” Albany glared at him, narrowing her eyes. After all, he hadn’t even visited her in the hospital.

“I… I’ve heard rumours that… that you…” he began, his voice shaking.

“Well it’s not true. It’s just rumours. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I would like to return to eating my last breakfast of the year in peace with my new _girlfriend_.” she said, clutching Belle closely to her. “So if you please, make your way back to the Gryffindor table. Goodbye.”

Jonas hurried back to the Gryffindor table, and Belle turned to look at her.

“You were a bit harsh on him. After all… the rumours _are_ true, aren’t they?” Belle said at the most quiet whisper in Albany’s ear.

“I don’t want to talk about it..” she muttered. There was an awkward silence.

“Albany, I wanted to give you this. I made duplicates with that charm Flitwick taught us last year. I already gave the other copy to Andrea. It’s a collection of all the photographs I took this school year and last year. I want you to have it so that you can smile, so that you can remember your friends, and how much you mean to us.”

“Oh Belle… thank you. This is wonderful. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.” she said, leaning in and giving Belle a tender kiss. She could practically feel Severus’s eyes burning a hole into the back of her head.

She opened the photobook and smiled at all of the sweet moments the four of them had together. She let her hands delicately trace each moving photograph, and found herself tearing up. She wiped away a tear from the corner of her eye before Belle planted a kiss on her cheek, and soon Andrea and Mpho had joined in on the embrace.

“And, of course, this goes without saying, but we are going to sincerely miss our beloved Ravenclaw Transfiguration Know-It-All, the lovely, the glamorous, Andrea Palestone!” Albany cried, giving Andrea a big hug. “Two more years with the little dude and one more with a sweetie pie. Oh where, oh where, oh where has the time gone?!?”

“I don’t want to stay for the End-Of-Term Feast.” Mpho muttered, causing three heads to turn.

“Why not?” Andrea asked.

“I just… I don’t want to.” Mpho mumbled, turning to look at Albany. “I don’t want to sit with _them_.” He pointed to the Slytherin table. “I’ll never forgive myself, Albie.”

Albany drew Mpho into her arms, where he began to sob. She realized it would be best if they weren’t to make a scene, so she, Belle, and Andrea led him outside to their favorite little oak tree, though Belle had separated from the group to grab some makeup. Mpho always did seem to cheer up when Belle did his makeup. Andrea and Albany certainly enjoyed it as well.

They sat there, taking in the Scottish sunshine, enjoying June 25th, the last Sunday of the term. Belle finally returned with her makeup, and she drew swirling, glittering shapes and geometric lines all across each of their faces. She brought out their best features, she made them look truly resplendent. Andrea temporarily transfigured their school robes, which they had in worn in anticipation of the End-Of-Term Feast, into flowing gowns of silk and taffeta. They danced around like fairies before the sun started to go down and they realized they should be in the Great Hall. Andrea offered to transfigure back their uniforms, but Albany convinced them all to proudly enter the Great Hall dressed like a bunch of mythical creatures. Fuck the impending mockery. Albany always liked to make a spectacle, and this one was best done in numbers. So they did so. Of course, they got some strange looks, they got some eyerolls. But who cares? None of them certainly did.

Ravenclaw won the house cup that year, with Gryffindor in second, Hufflepuff in third, and Slytherin, _shockingly_ , in fourth. The graduating seventh year students were called to rise.

“Andrea! You’re going to look like a fairy princess for your Graduation Ceremony!” Albany shouted over to the Ravenclaw table. Andrea gave her a thumbs up while Fae practically slammed her hands into her face out of secondhand embarrassment.

The students filed out of the Great Hall and Mpho was promptly tripped by a group of Gryffindors. “Watch where you’re going, faggot.” they spat, laughing to each other, some Slytherins joining in as well. It was a rare moment in which Gryffindors and Slytherins had some mutuality.

“You shut your dirty fucking mouth…” Albany snarled, glaring down the Gryffindor boys with a wild look, one of them in particular, the same one who made comments to her during the day in potions class where she wore red lipstick, took a good look up and down her body before heading out with the rest of his buddies. Albany reached down and helped Mpho up, giving him a tight hug and a kiss on his cheek.

“Ignore those perverts. They’re just jealous of how beautiful you are.” she cajoled in Mpho’s ear, before noticing that the professors had started to rise and Severus was making a pointed effort not to look at the two of them. “Come on, let’s go watch Andrea go fishing. Shall we?” Mpho nodded, still sniffling slightly.

Belle took Albany’s other arm, and the three exited the Great Hall and made their way to the Black Lake. They watched as Andrea got into her boat and made her way across the water, waving at them excitedly, the fabric of her magical costume flowing around her, charmed in place to maintain a slight breeze.

“I did a damn good job on her makeup. She looks gorgeous.” Belle remarked. Albany leaned over and kissed her, holding her cheekbone with one hand, pulling away and looking deep into her wide, soulful brown eyes.

“You always make anyone look gorgeous, Belle. It’s your raw talent, how can we deny that? Plus, you were already the prettiest girl in school, and now you’re… you’re beyond words. There are no words to describe you.” Albany said, giving Mpho a nod and taking Belle’s hand, leading her off to their oak tree.

They arrived and strategically placed themselves out of the line of sight, and began to snog furiously, hands running out one another’s bodies, breathing in and out, acquainting themselves with curves and dips. Thankfully, Belle had a special charmed lipstick she got somewhere in Diagon Alley that was impossible to smudge and wouldn’t ever stain.

Suddenly, the two were drawn apart. _Severus fucking Snape._

“Not only is it highly disrespectful to your peers graduating, but also to the student body and the staff having to watch you and your little group put on a flagrant display which is not accepted at a school in which uniform standards are to be met. Do you know how completely _obvious_ it was to both students and faculty that you two were running off to engage in inappropriate rendezvous?” Severus growled, putting on his performance of cruel, resentful and disciplinarian potions master. He was glaring most at Belle, who clearly was already quite terrified of him to begin with.

“We’re sorry, Professor Snape!” Belle shrieked, standing up and hightailing it back to the crowds gathered by the Black Lake, leaving Albany behind.

“Nice one.” Albany mumbled, standing and looking up at him. He found her to be absolutely breathtaking with her face dolled up and her body shrouded in bits of pastel multi-colored, nearly jarring swirling fabric. He had to fight the urge to kiss her right there, though he did, in fact, have a mission to carry out. He had planned something.

“Edge of the Forbidden Forest at 8 o’clock. I recommend you wear something more… discreet. I have to tell you something of importance.” he growled, before sweeping away, quickly going off about her disrespectful for authority, and her constant need to garner attention.

She too had information. _I bite._ Those two words themselves were enough to cause shudders to dance up and down Albany’s spine. She sighed, composed herself, and hurried back to a confused Mpho and a cowering Belle, reassuring the two of them that it’s alright, no one can really reprimand them anyway.

Once the ceremony had finished, the students hurried up to their rooms to change, pack, and sort through their belongings. Albany wore all black, as though in mourning, knowing that this would blend best with the darkness. She wore a sleeveless button-up velvet shirt, a long black skirt, and black combat boots that used to be her father’s, though she had shrunken them down in size a bit with magic. She packed her trunk and left it where it was supposed to be left in the room to be transported magically onto the Hogwarts Express.

“I heard you’re going to be getting a single room next year.” Fae said, putting away the last of her things.

“Yes, Dumbledore told me that.”

“So… I’ll be rooming with someone else.”

“Yes?” Albany wasn’t sure what she was getting at here.

“I am really sorry about what I did. I never wanted to hurt you. We’ve had our spits here and there, but I genuinely like you. I’m… I’ve been jealous of you. You’re so daring and uninhibited and… I sometimes wish I could be like you, or that you liked me.” Fae said, baring her heart, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

Albany brought her in for a hug, and the two held each other there for a moment until Fae planted a kiss on Albany’s cheek and ran out of the dormitory. Albany stood there, rather dumbstruck, before remembering that she had somewhere to be.

She hurried outside, making sure to melt into the darkness as she found herself by the edge of the forest. She stood there in the darkness, wrapping her arms around herself, as it was a bit more chilly than she anticipated. She was hoping she wouldn’t miss the Hogwarts Express, but she was sure Severus would find a way to get her to Platform 9 ¾ on time with the other students so as to not arouse suspicion. Or would she?

While deep in thought, she suddenly had an arm wrapping over her chest and a tongue gently licking at her neck. He took her hand in his and led her into the forest, where the two of them, clad in black, were consumed by darkness.

“Where are we going?” Albany asked, a bit out of breath.

“Somewhere private.” he growled into her ear, making her shudder.

They arrived at a dimly-lit grove surrounded by yew trees. Albany took a moment to take them all in, before she felt Severus’s hand on her waist and his lips on her mouth. He drew away, staring deeply into her eyes, their faces barely visible due to the meagre light from the moonbeam peeping through the lack of branches overhead in the grove.

“I needed to see you.” he said, kissing her again, pressing his body against hers, moaning deeply before biting her lower lip and pressing his tongue against hers. “I want to make sure you’re alright. I want to keep you safe.”

“You don’t need to be responsible for me.” Albany said, pulling away, echoing words spoken by the both of them earlier. “But I… I want… I want…”

“What do you want, Albany?” he said, pressing his forehead against hers. She took his hands and put them up underneath her shirt, moaning as he held her warm breasts in her hand.

_No bra again. Huh._

With her free hands, she reached up under her long skirt and pulled down her knickers, kicking them away with one booted foot.

“Are you… are you comfortable with that?” he asked, thinking back to recent events.

She looked at him and gulped. “Please.” she said.

He didn’t need another word before he lifted her up and pressed her body up against a tree, kissing her passionately before reaching one hand underneath her skirt and circling his slender, long fingers rapidly against her clit, causing her to buck and gasp and moan and roll her body into his hands. He quickly pulled out a contraceptive potion in a vial which he had brought, just in case, and poured it into her waiting mouth. She reached down and the two fumbled with the buttons on his slacks before she pulled them down, spreading her legs wide and letting her body lower itself onto his rigid shaft. She practically screamed at the sensation, and she could see his eyes roll back, before he met her gaze head on and began to slowly thrust upwards, pressing her back into the trunk of the tree.

“Oh God, oh God, please, harder, harder! Please…” she squealed, grabbing at the branches of the yew tree, tears of pleasure forming in her eyes. “Oh, God… Severus… Oh…”

He took her mouth in his again. Their teeth clashed, they bit down on lips and tongue, their heads turned back and forth, his hair was grabbed and pulled roughly. He followed her words, and began to thrust as quickly as his body allowed him until the tree was shaking and Albany’s entire body was shuddering and freezing as though struck by a _petrificus totalis_ , clamping down hard on his cock. She shrieked, birds and other bizarre aerial creatures stirred in the forest, and he had to silence her with another wild kiss. She was in complete bliss, feeling his cock widen her pussy, which was swollen and desperately in need of being filled. She found herself breathing rapidly, twisting her head back and forth, her hair becoming entangled in branches, bark, and leaves.

“I… I… I am enjoying this…” Severus moaned, gritting his teeth, hoping to hold off his orgasm for just a bit longer. “May… I… take you… on the… forest floor?” he said in between strained thrusts as he took short, sharp breaths.

“Yes!” she cried, immediately flipped over onto the grassy knoll before he began to enter her with more power, thrusting deeply, hitting her cervix and making her see stars. He reached up under her shirt again, kneading her breasts between his hands, pinching her nipples and tracing around her areolas. She ground her hips into his, and he felt heat pooling low into his belly before he bit down on her lips and came in stutters and unintelligible gasps and moans which he spoke deep into her mouth. She broke away from him to moan as an orgasm hit her and she clenched down on his cock, drawing a few more spurts out of him.

They lay there for a few moments, him sprawled on top of her, his cloak covering the two of them like a blanket, before he composed himself, tucked away his manhood and buttoned up all of his buttons. He found her panties and handed them to her. She still lay there, completely out of breath, an exhausted but satisfied look on her face.

“You know, I had taken a personal oath of celibacy.” he said, sitting down beside her.

“You did? After Lily died?” Albany said, still out of breath, her chest heaving.

“Yes. I… hadn’t expected… it would come to this.” he said, kneading his temples with his hands.

“Are you… do you regret this?” Albany said, suddenly finding herself somewhat hurt.

“No. I don’t. It’s just that, well, usually when I would fuck before… well, it was only a year of it, really… I wouldn’t really speak to the person. They were faceless, they were nameless. They were… something to _fuck_ , that’s all. I didn’t want to say it earlier but… this is all so alien to me.” he looked up at her, the lost boy from Cokeworth alive in his eyes. “I never thought anyone ever would be this way with me. I had lost _hope_.”

This brought tears to her eyes. She cupped one hand around her mouth and fell into his arms, kissing his cheeks, his nose, and his eyelids. “Oh, God, Severus… Please… Please… I hate to see you suffer. You’ve only known a life of pain.”

“Indeed I have.” he mumbled, running his hands through her hair. “I am going to miss you. What are your summer plans?” he said, trying his best to seem casual and not let her know that he was praying with all of his heart and soul that he could be with her in some way. His heart was brimming, and he was a bit terrified of this, admittedly.

“I’m traveling with the Palestone family across Europe.” she replied. His heart dropped.

“I’ve always wanted to see the world. I’ve never left Great Britain.” he said, a hint of resentment in his voice. “You’re quite lucky.”

“I’ve only been to Delhi and Athens with my parents. Well, and America, of course. To visit my grandparents.”

“You’re an American! How charming.” Severus said with a smile, which nearly startled Albany.

“I didn’t know you were capable of smiling, Severus. It looks a bit weird on you, but I honestly hope to grow familiar with it.” she said, leaning in and kissing him deeply. “Oh, shit, there was something I had to tell you.”

“What is it?” He was genuinely curious. He never knew what she had in store for him.

“I… I have dreams, Severus. Well, like everyone, sometimes they’re totally stupid and don’t make sense, like most people’s dreams, but other times they are… poignant. Important. Overtly symbolic. Well, I had a dream about different potions in… in your grave.”

“My grave?” he asked. He always assumed he would die in the next ten years, either by his own hand or someone else’s, though he was, admittedly, quite curious about the how and when.

“Yes. May 2nd, 1998. That’s when you’ll die.” she said sternly, looking deep into his eyes, gulping. “I’ll be there.”

“What the bloody hell do you mean?” he asked, starting to get up before she grabbed onto his robes and pulled him back down to the ground. “Albany... Explain!”

“I saw your mother, and I think your grandmother… they were holding babies… and then there was another woman holding twins that melted into the Earth…” she said, panicking as Severus had gotten up to leave. “Wait, wait, please! Please, Severus. Just sit.” She stared deep into her eyes, and there was a softness and purity there that led him to sitting back down with her. She crawled into his lap and curled up into it, his fingers running through her curly locks.

“Was your grandmother an Arab?” Albany asked.

“My mother’s mother was Turkish.” he replied brusquely. “How did you figure that out?”

“There was a voice singing a song. I couldn’t tell what language. It sounded like a lullaby.” She felt Severus’s body tense. She ran her fingernails across his scalp, and she felt him calm. “I saw you hold Lily’s dead body on Halloween. I am so sorry, Severus.”

“It’s my fault. You know. It’s always been my fault.” he mumbled. “It’s almost cruel that Dumbledore expects me to live. I want nothing more than to escape. Maybe I would go somewhere. I could travel the world. I could… learn what it feels like to be… _happy_.”

“Your mother doesn’t want you to be a martyr. She wanted me to tell you that. Or, at least, the woman in my dream. She looks a lot like you, Severus.”

“Yes, people tell me that. It isn’t much a compliment to her, unfortunately.”

“You have your father’s nose, though.” she said. Severus took her shoulders and looked into her eyes, absolutely perplexed.

“Does no one else realize how important you are, how powerful? How the hell do you know all these things… it’s… You could do much in the hands of the wrong people. I hope you know that.” Severus looked at her with a strange smirk, and she knew he was absolutely right.

“I’m going to leave Britain once I graduate. Mum and I are going to sell the house in Blacksfield and move back in with my grandparents in North Carolina. It’s been five years since I went and visited them.”

“And your father’s parents?”

“They… his mother died in childbirth and my grandfather killed himself as well.”

“I see.” he said, stroking her cheekbone with one delicate finger.

“For the record, I don’t consider myself powerful, I consider myself painfully unlucky. I think you are too, quite frankly.” She sighed, finally taking some time to look around. “I can’t believe I feel so safe in the middle of the Forbidden Forest at night.”

“I would come here often as a student, after hours, of course. No one ever caught on.” Severus mumbled, pulling her face up to kiss and kissing her deeply. “How has this all happened? Do you… Do you think that…” He was cut off by her lips, though he pulled away prematurely. “Do you think Albus Dumbledore has something to do with this?”

“Ew, I hope not! I’d rather not have a Headmaster meddling in my personal matters…”

“Oh, believe me, he will, and he has. That man knows everything about everyone and everything. He controls me, he controls you, he controls everyone in this damn school.” Severus said, clearly resentful beyond her true understanding. “No one has free will at Hogwarts. Not really.”

“I’ve caught on to that, honestly. That’s why I’m already excited to graduate.” A part of this made Severus feel a bit sad, or even dejected. “I’m really just itching to do things. I think this trip around Europe will be really good for me. I’m most excited to go to the USSR.”

“Why?”

“Well, I want to visit Koldovstoretz, and maybe go to Moscow… Belle and I have been learning Russian on the weekends, and my dad spoke it fluently. He was a comparative literature major with a specialization in Russian classical works. I don’t… I don’t know how familiar you are, but yeah. That’s one thing I want. Hopefully it’ll be possible.” She took his fingers and laced them between hers. “There’s another thing that I need to tell you.”

“Yes?” He was always surprised by what would come from this girl’s mouth.

“Research snake venom. It’ll be important. You’ll get… a bite.”

“A bite?” Snakes. You-Know-Who. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I don’t know… Just… Do research and tell me about it… That’s all I need. Can you promise me that?” she said, holding out her pinky, playing a rather childish game with him, which he found somewhat discomforting. “Please, Severus.” He caved and their pinkies wrapped around one another’s. “Thank you, love.” she whispered, kissing him again, rolling on top of him, letting her hands run across his chest and his face. _Love._

“I got you something.” he said, looking up at her in awe. Her long hair was sprawled across his chest, and a bit of moonlight was caught on her golden curls.

“Yes. What did you get me?” she said with her signature coy little smile.

“I want you to be in my N.E.W.T. class.” he said. She froze.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Severus. We wouldn’t want to arouse any suspicion. And, trust me, enough suspicion has already been aroused. We need to be a lot more discrete if we are to continue… this.”

“Well, I left you something of mine. You’ll find it in your trunk. Study it over the summer, and I believe you’ll be able to catch up with your peers. You’ll also have an insight into… my adolescent mind.” he said, running his hands under her shirt again, tugging on her nipple, causing her to arch towards his touch, her mons rubbing up against his crotch.

He immediately got quite hard and he looked up at her as she shifted her weight back so she was sitting on his thighs. Her fingers worked manically as she unbuttoned him, pulled down his boxers, and impaled herself onto his shaft, whimpering at how deep inside of her he was given this new position. He put his large, nimble hands on her hip, and proceeded to lower and raise her slowly, her wet, warm cunt wrapped around his cock in a vice-grip.

“Oh, Severus… I’m going to miss your cock inside of me… it’s perfect…” she said in a moaned whisper, rubbing her hands up on his chest, surveying his body, an inquisitive look into her sparkling eyes which appeared quite obscured by the dark night.

“I wanted to ask… why don’t you take your clothes off?” The change from sexy banter to a question which put him on the spot and made him feel incredibly vulnerable made Severus feel rather perplexed.

“Well, Albany, I…” A spike of ecstasy took his breath away for a moment as his eyes glazed over. “I have been… _disfigured…_ by my father… by You-Know-Who…”

She leaned down, her hips still grinding on his cock, holding his face in her hands, tears forming in her eyes. She made a silent vow to protect him, and he wrapped his arms around her. She shook suddenly, her limbs flailing wildly, as though she was some kind of wanton scarecrow faced with a surge of wind while possessed. It was nearly comical in nature. He bit down hard on her lips as he thrust deep into him again and she managed to break from his teeth and scream. He suddenly came inside of her, pressing her chest hard onto his as his body shuddered, moans and grunts spilling from his lips, one hand on her bum and the other tangled in her hair.

“I can’t believe this is happening.” she muttered after around five minutes of their unconventional embrace had gone by. “I never thought… I never thought that this would ever happen.”

“Nor did I.”

 

***

 

_Mama?_

“Mum?”

_Was ist es, Engel?_

“What is it, angel?”

_Wie hast du meinen Vater getroffen?_

“How did you meet my father?” Silence.

_Ich hatte gerade Hogwarts abgeschlossen. Meine Eltern waren gestorben und ich konnte nirgendwohin gehen. Ich wanderte völlig ziellos durch London, bis ich in einem kleinen Café ankam. Ich bestellte einen Kaffee mit dem kleinen Geld, das mein Muggelvater für mich übrig hatte. Ich saß allein in meiner billigen, abgenutzten Kleidung und zitterte vor kaltem Regen. Ein Mann kam auf mich zu und fragte, ob ich nach Hause fahren sollte. Ich sagte, ich hätte kein Zuhause. Er bot mir einen alten Mantel seiner Mutter an. Ich ging zu ihm nach Hause. Er war nichts als sanft. Er hat mir ein Gedicht vorgelesen… Ich denke, ich kann mich daran erinnern… Warte…_

“I had just graduated Hogwarts. My parents had died, and I had nowhere to go. I found myself wandering around London, completely aimlessly, until I arrived at a little café. I ordered a coffee, using the little money my Muggle father had left for me. I sat alone in my cheap, threadbare clothing, shivering from the cold rain. A man approached me and asked if I needed a ride home. I said that I had no home. He offered to give me an old coat of his mother’s. I went to his home. He was nothing but gentle. He read me a poem… I think I can remember it… Wait…”

 

_“I see a lily on thy brow,_

_With anguish moist and fever-dew,_

_And on thy cheeks a fading rose_

_Fast withereth too.”_

 

_***_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Just in case you were wondering, Tobias obviously manipulated Eileen into thinking that he had written that poetry. It's really a segment of John Keats' 'La Belle Dame sans Merci'. What an asshole.)
> 
> Music:
> 
> 1\. Come On Eileen: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ASwge9wc-eI
> 
> 2\. Life In The Vivid Dream: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aw8IwXr1DFI
> 
> 3\. The Way Young Lovers Do: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1cXIdFxbpIg
> 
> 4\. Levi Stubbs' Tears: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I4v8VJ0LRgA
> 
> (#4 is a really potent song about domestic abuse. Plus, Billy Bragg literally has Severus's infamous nose)
> 
> Comments and kudos are SO appreciated. Thank you so much! It gives me so much joy to see that people are actually checking out my weird little story.
> 
> SPOTIFY PLAYLIST: https://open.spotify.com/user/mooniemoe/playlist/1BftWaSHedV8PHnvuicKXB?si=Gef5WfE0SXqMKWLEFW9zJg
> 
> Also, sorry if the next update doesn't come for a while, I'm going back to college in a few days and will be working hard until June :) Though I will post as much as I can, and when I say this story spans 30 years... it really fucking does.


	19. Severan Worsley Tondo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The summer vacation begins, Albany and Andrea ride a Muggle train and Andrea loves it, Severus is getting a bit clingy (very typical of him), memories of Chat Moss perforate the scene, two brothers cannot share power, and the Minister pays Dumbledore a visit.
> 
> *If you haven't gauged this already, this fanfic contains very heavy material. Trigger warnings galore.

 

***

 

Severus took Albany, when they arrived at the apparition point, over to an alleyway in London just outside of the train station where Andrea and her belongings were waiting. Before she could go back into the light of the street, Severus grabbed her by the waist and brought her close against his chest before he leaned down and kissed her tenderly, one long hand grabbing her ass and giving it a hard squeeze, the other resting at the nape of her neck, entwining individual fingers into her hair

“Well, Severus, I have to go. You should get back to the castle.” she said, pulling her lips away from his and finding her voice between harsh intakes of breath.

“I’ll make up something regarding my absence. I am rather good at that, in fact.” he said with a smirk, before drawing her in by the waist and kissing her again. His hold was forceful, hard, and demanding. He wanted to consume her, and she wasn’t entirely giving at the moment, her mind wandering to premonitions and impending discussions with her likely confused and irritated friends.

She was the one who pulled away yet again, giving him a half-smile and making her way back to the station. Severus suddenly became totally enraged. He was tempted to go after her, to grab her by the arm and demand that she explain herself, that she confess her love, that she return to his embrace and stay there forever. It was all he could ever want. However, even the eyes of Muggles would grow suspicious, and who knew if there were any witches or wizards out and about at this hour? He was most certainly recognizable with his distinct features, and he was a relatively well-known Potions Master. Well, and obviously everyone knew him as the potions professor who had terrorized and traumatized their children for years. They would ask questions about who Albany was, why he was out around London at this hour… he had to play it safe, to seem indifferent to her actions, pretending he was not obsessing over her behaviours and her treatment of him, pretending that he didn’t feel a burning, nearly palpable inner voice demanding him to possess, to claim, to exert _power_ . Soon, he felt his heart beating three times its normal pace, and he realized that he, in essence, had his _feelings_ hurt.

_Why had she not even said goodbye? Why did she draw herself away?_

Albany hurried to the station, knowing that Andrea was certainly going to be more than pissed off at her, and Belle was likely heartbroken. She didn’t want to hurt Severus by any means, but she did want him to know that she wasn’t so comfortable with his flagrant displays of passion, which were, admittedly, a bit frightening for her. She knew he was growing far too attached than what would keep their… exchanges… under wraps, more-or-less. She knew Andrea, the Ravenclaw she was, would have already intuitively determined what had gone down that evening and a few other evenings as well. Admittedly, a part of Albany wanted Severus wrapped around her finger, at her disposal and under her control, and she knew that patience and time apart would do that. Her conflicting thoughts were really getting the best of her lately.

She arrived at the station just before it closed, finding Andrea standing outside of the entrance to Platform 9 ¾ with their trunks and her fussy owl, arms crossed and face etched in an infuriated scowl. She had changed back into her regular clothes, though her makeup remained. That was a good choice, Albany noted, as they both looked quite pretty.

“Where the fuck were you?” she snapped, Albany’s face growing red, her eyes averting from Andrea’s demanding hazel gaze. “My. _God_ . You were where I think you were. Well, I’ll let you know that Belle was in tears when she got off the Hogwarts Express because she didn’t even get to see you before she goes to fucking Korea to visit her grandparents, and Mpho was obviously upset too because he didn’t get to say goodbye to his only friend in Slytherin before he had to go back home in South _fucking_ Africa.”

“I’m sorry. I… I should apologize to them in some way. Are there intercontinental owls?”

Andrea smacked Albany on the arm, tempted to smack her across the face as well for good measure. “What does it matter, anyways?” she sighed, flipping her hair over her shoulder, taking a deep and meditative breath mainly for herself. “Sorry, Albany. That wasn’t okay, though, what you did. You’ve really hurt them, and you need to know and understand that. So, can you show me what Muggle train we’re going to be taking?” Albany wasn’t entirely sure what to make in the sudden change in topic, but she carried on. She knew Andrea was entirely in the right, and that she had been a terrible friend and partner. What else was knew? A little voice in her head reminded her that she was scum, and people were giving her too much leverage, offering her too many free passes through life and relationships that she didn’t deserve.

Albany, bringing herself back to reality, looked over at their trunks. “I recommend making those look a bit more… Muggle-like. Unassuming.”

Andrea looked over at some other Muggle passenger’s luggage for reference before discreetly transfiguring their own.

“Make Veronica Sawyer look like a parrot.” Albany mumbled through gritted teeth, referring to Andrea’s slender and very pretty barn owl her parents had got for her when she was eleven. She was obsessed with the Muggle movie _Heathers_ , and named her barn owl accordingly. Andrea looked confused. “Just do it. No Muggle has a motherfucking owl in a cage like that.” Andrea did what she was told before Albany reached out and grabbed her hand, leading them to the train to Oxford where they were to apparate to Blacksfield from there.

They got their tickets and loaded onto the train, Andrea looking around with a look of amazement in her bright eyes. “Wow! So, this just moves underground and then above ground? So it just… travels on the ground without any portals or anything?” She got some eyebrows from other passengers in the car.

“Sit down, Andrea.” Albany said, giving her an urgent expression. “Okay, so now we can talk. _Quietly_. What do you want to know about what has been going on with… well, you know?”

“So you’re asking me to ask you about everything?” Andrea said sarcastically, one eyebrow raised.

“Well, I have no one else to talk to about it, now do I?” Albany mumbled. “Admittedly, I kind of do want to talk about it to sort everything out in my head and figure out what’s going on. So, you’re the only one and the perfect one to talk to. I mean… I’m sorry about the fact that we made a Vow. I mean, he was the binder of the Vow and… I don’t know, I mean I get that there’s a power imbalance which is kind of frightening, but at the same time I have feelings there that I can’t ignore, but at the same time I want to ignore them. Is this making any sense?”

The conductor gave by and stamped their tickets, giving the two girls and their _parrot_ a very weird look. “No pets on the train, miss.” the fat bloke mumbled, his red face and bulbous nose glaring down at the two of them. “I’ll have to ask you both to get off at the next stop.” His voice was steadily raising, and Albany began to panic about the amount of attention they were receiving.

Andrea frowned, sneaking out her wand and casting a charm that made this exchange look all the more ordinary to everyone around them. Using a memory charm almost off-handedly, the man nodded at them, wishing them a good day, stumbling down the aisle and stamping other tickets, clutching at seats and even passengers to regain his balance which had suddenly seemingly been compromised.

“What did you do?” Albany whispered, chuckling slightly, watching the poor bloke stumble about down the aisle.

“A memory modification charm.” Andrea answered frankly, playing down her evident talent in charms.

“You’ll need to teach me that. It’ll be helpful… I’m not sure how… but it will…” Albany began, before Andrea cast a _muffliato_ in order to ensure that their conversation wouldn’t be overheard in any capacity. The risk was far too great.

“So tell me. Why didn’t you come back on the Hogwarts Express with everyone else?” Andrea said, adjusting so she could directly face Albany and begin their interrogation.

“I fucked him.” she blurted out. Andrea sighed and kneaded her temples before responding.

“Yes, when I left his office after making the Vow I was sure you did. You left me waiting out there. Consider it a bloody courtesy I’m entertaining you now with my family and boyfriend this summer.” she said, before regretting some of it. “I’m sorry. You’ve… you deserve a break. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing personal. I completely get what you’re saying, and I would feel the same way that you feel if I were you.” Albany said, sighing and looking out the window at the grimy underground of London. “Well, he told me to meet him in the Forbidden Forest after he caught me and Belle snogging, and so I went. Then we… we had sex. Twice.”

Andrea shuddered in disgust, but continued on listening to her friend.

“He took me to London since the Hogwarts Express had already left and Platform 9 ¾ was about to close so I could see you and get home… he was kind of clingy and kept kissing me and he wouldn’t calm down… I… I think I love him, and I think he loves me…” she began, tears forming in the corners of her eyes, which actually surprised her a bit.

“You _don’t_ love him, Albany. He’s using you for sex and attention. I’ve been in his class for seven years, and that man doesn’t have a bone in his body capable of love.” Andrea said, crossing her arms and turning a bit away from Albany. “He’s hurting you, he’s using you and manipulating you… how old is he, anyway?”

“He’s 29.” Albany replied, unable to have any real reaction or response to her friend’s words.

“Seriously? He looks way older. Sorry.” Andrea said with a stifled laugh. “I mean, it does make it a little bit better. I swore I thought he was, like, 40 or something. Well, okay, so it’s not as bad as I thought, but that doesn’t mean it’s not bad.” She took a moment to think. “What do you guys even talk about? What do you guys even do besides making out and pity fucking?”

“Our lives. Our feelings. I have had Visions about him, Andrea. They’re important, and I can’t stop having them. In waking life, in dreams, in passing thoughts. It’s kind of maddening. And, also, I’ll admit, he had a pretty giant cock so that definitely has made me into a bit of a boomerang, if you catch my drift.” Albany said with a laugh. Andrea joined in, and soon the two were in a fit of giggles.

“But wait, seriously? I didn’t expect that…” Andrea made a face of disgust again. “Really, I just find this to be so strange… of all people, you would choose him? I just don’t get it, Albany. I’m sorry, I just really don’t understand how this happened. I mean, was it because he was the first wizard you met besides Dumbledore or something? I know he tutored you, do you think he was secretly grooming you or something?” Andrea said, noticing Albany’s irritation. “Fine, okay, sorry. I just don’t understand why you’d want to be with him.”

“You don’t have to. I don’t understand it either.” Albany huffed, feeling Andrea take her hand suddenly.

“I want you to be safe. I think it’s good that we’re going to be away from him, that _you_ are going to be away from him.” Andrea insisted, staring at Albany before looking away, her eyes surveying curious Muggles and their little odd habits. “I think you’ll like Dmitri. He’s from New York City. After this summer, I’m hoping to move in with him somewhere over there. I’ve always wanted to go to America.”

“How did you guys meet again?” Albany asked, thankful for the change in topic.

“Well, back in my fifth year, he was doing an exchange program from Ilvermorny, the American wizarding school. He’s a few years older than me, but he was so kind. I was assigned to give a castle tour, as I had just been assigned as prefect so it was my responsibility, and he caught my eye. We talked afterwards, and I gave him a private tour of all the much more interesting spots. You know, he’s a half-blood, actually. His father is a… Muggle, or, ‘No-Maj’, as they call them over there, and his mother was a witch.” Andrea said. She was clearly enamored to the moon and back with this fellow. “Anyways, so you’re gonna meet him, and he’s great. He knows a bit about the Muggle world so you too have that in common, at least.”

“Sounds better than Jonas and leagues better than Severus.” Albany mumbled. “Yeah, I know what you were getting at. It’s just so _great_ that you and Dmitri have such a great relationship. It’s really _amazing_.” Albany mumbled, slouching in her seat, arms crossed, a stark frown on her face.

She began to fantasize about Severus, and felt a tingle in her abdomen. She was amazed how all-of-a-sudden this was, and gulped, trying to preoccupy her thoughts with the cities and suburbs from London to Oxford. Her mind wandered again, and she found herself thinking of his nimble fingers, his sharp cheekbones, the way he kissed her and touched her, how he revered her body, how he coveted it, how he could be both rough and gentle, how he would enter her deep and passionately.

“Albany? Albany? Hello? It’s our stop.” Andrea said, poking her, the two shuffling off the train onto the platform. “Well, what do we do now?”

“I think we can apparate there from here. Would you do it? I’m a bit worried about what happened… last time.” Albany said, breathing it the semi-polluted Oxford air.

“Sure.” Andrea said, leading Albany into a discreet corner of the platform where they had some privacy.

There was that glorious rush of nothingness and everything, of contorted bodies and subliminal planes of light. With a grunt and a gasp, the two landed right in the town square. A few Muggles gasped, Andrea quickly obliterated them. “Shit, shit, shit…” she said under her breath. “Albany, lead the fucking way to your goddamn house. Go! Go!”

Albany felt strange to be walking the streets of the parish town where she had grown up. She got a few waves and a few inquisitive remarks about where she had been all year, but, for the most part, the town seemed the exact same as she remembered it, which was a bit disheartening in a way. She knew she wouldn’t be staying here after she graduated. There were a few other confused looks, maybe even some concern on their faces. Someone asked about her mother, and Albany replied that she was ‘fine’, even though she herself didn’t even know.

The two arrived at the Newson home, and Albany requested Andrea to cast _alohomora_ , which promptly opened the door and revealed a house with unwashed dishes, a thin layer of dust covering the furniture and other belongings.

“Mum?” Albany called out. No response. She walked over to the kitchen table and found a handwritten note. She turned white as a sheep as her eyes grazed across the yellow-worn parchment, and the note fell out of her hands.

“Albany? What’s wrong?” Andrea said, putting an arm on her friend’s shoulder, and reaching down and grabbing the note, quickly reading it herself.

“She went back to North Carolina to be with my grandparents. She… she tried to kill herself. She has trusted me with the house and left me a little bit of money to keep up expenses until the time comes. I… I don’t know what to make of this all.” Albany said, looking around the room, recognizing missing items and things out of place from what she remembered. “She’s sold lots of things. She’s left the bare minimum for my survival. _Lillian Gold_ …”

“Who?”

“My mother. Lillian Gold. Oh, God.” Albany said, sitting down on the sofa, a cloud of dust erupting in the air, dancing around her face as though she were in a spotlight. “At least she’s safe. That’s the least I could ever ask for. That’s… that’s all I needed to hear.”

“We could spend a few days here, making sure everything’s in order. I’ll send an owl to my parents explaining everything. They’re super accommodating. They’ll understand. I also want to be here for you, in any capacity.” Andrea said. “Let me clean up the house and sort things out, alright?” Albany nodded.

Andrea waved her wand and cleared the dust off the furniture and the dishes began to wash themselves. Andrea headed upstairs and rearranged furniture that was clearly out of place, made the beds, and then returned downstairs to set up a floo system in their old fireplace. She also lit a fire, and went into the kitchen and pulled together various food scraps which she even began to cook herself without magic, all while Albany sat on the couch and stared into the fireplace, thinking about everything and nothing, feeling as though time was too slow and too fast all at the same time. Andrea came by and handed her a plate, and the two of them began to eat mindlessly. She couldn’t even begin to tell you what she ate. It was nothing memorable.

Andrea went upstairs to get some pillows and blankets from the bedrooms, and suddenly the fire crackled and Severus’s face appeared in the fire. Albany leaped off the couch and hurried over to it.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?!?” she hissed at him.

“I needed to see you and give you something important.” he said, an urgent tone in his voice, though marked with a bit of sweetness.

“Well, Andrea is upstairs and she’s not your biggest fan so I suggest you make this as quick as possible.” Albany scowled. “What do you have to tell me?”

“Well, it was elaborate, but it can wait. Here.” he said, handing her a rolled piece of parchment through the firecall. “I think you’ll know what it is when you open it.”

“Albany! How many pillows do you want?” called Andrea’s voice from upstairs.

“Um, five!” she said, hoping a search for pillows would buy them enough time.

“Five? That many? Uh, okay.”

“Okay, so go on. What else?” she said, returning to the firecall.

“You need to open your diary. I left my address in there.” he said.

“Severus, I am NOT going to be contacting you. We need to establish distance. We. Are. Not. Dating.” Albany growled under a hushed whisper. “Also, I don’t need your customized textbook for your N.E.W.T. class. I’m not going to be taking it, anyways. What you need to do is take it back, and put it on a shelf in your classroom and forget about it. Alright?”

“Why would I just put it on a shelf in my classroom? That book… it was practically my diary when I was your age.” That last comment made the two of them cringe. “I just thought you would benefit from it, and maybe even use it as an excuse to… to be in my class.”

“Have I not made it clear that I am not good at potions?! You certainly made me aware of that fact before we started fucking. So no, that is not gonna happen. It’s going to cause suspicion. You’ve never let a student who got an E go into that class, and you’re not gonna start now. So no, it’s not gonna happen.” she said, instantly regretting her behaviour. She knew she was being overly harsh on him. His expression showed.

“I have done nothing but support you, comfort you, tell you everything about me that I’ve never told anyone. Is this how you behave to all of your partners? Or do I merit extra chastisement?” he growled, narrowing his eyes at her, as much as it could during a firecall. “I’ll have you know that I have done nothing but save you numerous times from getting caught, expelled, or worse. You are aware of that, aren’t you? Or did it slip from your childish periphery?”

“ _Childish_? Why don’t you listen to yourself for a change! I don’t want to be your ‘partner’, because this is all very scary and I don’t understand it myself. It’s, quite simply, completely overwhelming and really quite inconvenient for me at this time. My mother, she left me here all by myself. I’m not in a state to be with anyone right now. Belle is away for the summer, and she is, by the way, my significant other at the moment. You need to leave me alone.” she said, firmly although as gently as she could.

“Are you with anyone right now?” he asked, almost desperately.

“Yes. Andrea. So you should get going. Goodbye.” Albany said through gritted teeth, wiping away any semblance of a stressed tear that would fall down her pale cheek.

She turned over one shoulder to see Andrea heading down the stairs, and when she turned back to the fire he was gone. She stood up abruptly, brushing dust and dirt off of her skirt and braiding her hair back, tired of having it hanging in her face all the time. She turned to Andrea, smiled, and took the pillows she handed her and laid them out of the couch, curling up like a cat and gazing idly into the bare fireplace.

“Well, do you think we could stay the night here? We can head off to London tomorrow. I’d like to take the Muggle train again… It was… quite nice, really. I liked seeing all of them mingling about, and watching the view was quite nice too.” Andrea said, smiling, beginning to doze off herself. “I can understand if you don’t want to sleep… in your room…” Andrea mumbled, her head falling to her side as she began to softly snore.

Albany carefully stood, making sure not to make any noise, before cringing her way up the excessively creaky old steps of their home and climbing up the steps to the attic, where everything was left exactly as she remembered it. The rope was gone, there was no sign of any malice in the room. She headed over to her records, drawing her hands over all of them, rubbing the dust between her fingertips, letting her dirty fingers graze over posters and portraits and other childhood memorabilia. She began to wonder why her mother would have left her, and what her mother expected of her. She clearly thought Albany could take care of herself, though giving an 18-year-old full reign and responsibility of a house she wouldn’t be in nearly ten months out of the year was fairly ludicrous.

She decided that it would be best if she were to strip and fall into her neglected bed, completely unconcerned with the fact that Andrea would have to wake up her naked friend. They were going to see each other naked at some point if such level of closeness were to continue anyways. She would get some summer clothes from her dresser and then pack in the morning, she decided, letting her tangled braid sprawl out on her pillows as she lay there like a broken china doll, looking up at the rafters above her, reminiscing on how many nights had been like this one yet so different.

 

*******

 

Albany stood, looking at her hands, which were covered in blood. She approached a stone wall, pressing her warm hands into the cold and taking a deep breath through her nose. She felt a shudder in her body, and then two warm hands clutching her waist from behind. She felt a nose bury itself in her hair, breathing in deeply. She felt a warm tongue nip at her ear, that instantly recognizable scent overwhelming her as she felt a hand run its course down from the top of her bare neck down to her ankles, and then back up again, drawing goosebumps all over her skin. She was all eyes and no eyes, looking down at her body, not being able to distinguish the other party clearly yet seeing them so clearly at the same time.

There was a dancing man found between the rocks where her bloody handprints took on lives of their own, making semblances of greater shapes and dancing storytelling.

_He is attributed to both Stonehenge and Olmec Native American origins. He is the man, represented by the universal all-seeing Eye, the eye of knowledge, the mind, the brain, the cerebral cortex. Perhaps he is cyclopean in nature, or perhaps he is just like one of us, wandering through hills and fields, filled with both lust and that of a blood kind. He is one who can wield magic, harnessing the elements and contorting them from the world which is filled with animism and no fulfillment._

Someone reached forward and took her lips, bringing them to another pair. She watched herself as her eyes were closed, one hand reaching up and gently clutching her throat, before she was thrown into shallow, mucky and muddy water. She was barefoot, and the sludge reached almost up to her knees.

_You will become the Worsley Man if you were to go look for her. That was what he was doing, I’d say. He was looking for his lost mother, though it was all part of the classic ritual of the Celts. They knew of magic, they most certainly did._

There was a splash, and suddenly she was thrust deep inside of the bog. Opening her eyes, there were soft tendrils of golden light, similar to the ones made during the bonding of an Unbreakable Vow, twirling and dancing around her, gently wrapping one tendril around a wrist or an ankle. She could breathe just fine down there. She looked, and saw the pruned flesh of an anemic woman with long black hair dancing amidst the turning tides. Suddenly, snow flurries enveloped her field of vision. She whipped around her hair, dying to get a closer look at the source of the snowstorm, though she found none. Before she knew it, she was standing in the only grassy bit remaining in a land made entirely of a blanket of white snow.

_Добро пожаловать в Сибирь, Элиана Лилиан Принц... Добро пожаловать в Сибирь, Мартин Аса Принц... Добро пожаловать в Сибирь, Левит Северин Принц…_

Albany began to fluster, flailing her limbs around in water once again, though completely unable to swim. When she looked down, the dead woman’s eyes now held a semblance of life, and she began to speak, her voice as clear as day but rendered nearly immobile by the eruption of bubbles that came whenever she let enough air part from between her yellow, crooked teeth.

_Er weigerte sich, sich unter dem Jungen zu bücken. Er hatte immer verlangt, als gleichwertig behandelt zu werden, was angesichts der Art und Weise, wie sein Vater ihn behandelte. Aus Rache hat der Junge die eine Sache gestohlen, die er liebte, und eine solche Liebe kann nie wieder gefunden werden. Er ist dazu bestimmt zu sterben._

“He refused to stoop below the boy. He had always demanded to be treated like an equal, what, given the way his father treated him. As revenge, the boy stole the one thing he loved, and such love can never be found again. He is destined to die.”

“Who? Why does he have to die? Everyone deserves a chance to live a long life, even those like Voldemort, who kill and corrupt his soul for it.”

_Es gibt andere, die im Laufe der Geschichte solche Dinge getan haben. Wir haben uns entschieden, uns nicht an sie zu erinnern, weil ihre Stimmen durch die Zeit unbeweglich werden. Unsere Welt hat sich zu weit von ihrer Welt entfernt. Es wird einen dritten Sohn geben, der ein weiterer großer Zerstörer der Welten und der Gefolgschaft werden wird._

“There are others who have done such things throughout history. We have chosen not to remember them because their voices are rendered immobile through the passing of time. The world of ours has grown too far apart from the world of theirs. There will be a third born son who will become another great destroyer of worlds and of allegiances.”

_Annemi özledim. Albany, please, love, open the scroll._

There it was, materialized in her hands. Slowly, she unrolled it and came across an image of what appeared to be of Roman origin, of a man and woman with their two sons. However, one of the son’s faces had been burned out of the portrait. Such an act would have been done in a fit of rage, in a true tryst between family members in an attempt to kill or to forget one who had shamed the family. Albany found her heart throbbing, praying with all her might that such a son had not gone on to do terrible things, robbing himself of happiness through enticing acts of self-sabotage.

_Their names were Geta and Caracalla. They were incapable of sharing power._

 

*******

 

Severus had just arrived home after finishing his second year of Hogwarts. It was a somewhat tolerable year, despite the bullying. He did, however, have Lily Evans to thank for fun adventures and comfort in the wake of his unrelenting bullies who had been insistent on making him feel bad about himself since the beginning of school.

He was happy to be seeing his mother. He had been immensely worried about her whenever he was gone, as he couldn’t send her an owl without his father getting mad and beating her as a result. She usually would pick him up at the station, but he waited alongside the other kids for quite some time. Lily had left right away, giving him a goodbye hug and hurrying off with Petunia and her parents, the former looking incredibly sour and resentful of the whole ordeal. James made an effort to hit Severus upside the head, though his mother noticed and did the same to him, which made Severus smile wickedly in James’s direction, though he immediately felt a pang of jealousy upon realizing that he was the only kid left at the platform.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Eileen appeared, although there was certainly something different about her. Her walk was tentative, and every step looked painful to her. Severus approached her and tried to give her a hug, though she winced and gently pushed him away.

“I brought some Wiggenweld potions I made for you, mum.” he said, in English. “My Professor told me that I did a really good job with them and that they’re some of the best he’s seen anyone make!”

Eileen looked down at him with a sadness in her eyes, before taking him by the shoulder and leading him out into the main Muggle part of the station.

“Mum, what’s wrong?” he said, again in English.

_Ich fühle mich heute nicht gut. Erzähl es deinem Vater nicht._

“I am not feeling well today. Don’t tell your father.” was all Eileen Prince could say as she led her son to the platform of the train to Manchester, where they would then walk to Cokeworth. It was rather inconvenient that the Hogwarts Express was based in London, as the ride up to Manchester was more than six hours one way, if lucky. She didn’t know how to drive and didn’t have any access to magic, so this was her best bet. She had convinced Tobias to lend her the travel money to go on the Muggle train, though it was hardly enough and was mostly made of up various coins found on the street or around the house.

By the time they arrived back at Spinner’s End, Eileen was absolutely exhausted, collapsing into an old poorly-upholstered chair.

_Brauchen Sie etwas zu essen?_

“Do you need anything to eat?” he asked, reaching out for that physical touch he so longing craved, before she slapped his hand away.

He held his stinging hand, growing angry that his mother, one of the few people who even seemed to remotely care about him, was pushing him away, was refusing him of love. Again.

He went upstairs to his room, where he played with some of the secondhand toys his mother had gotten for him, and then put them down, reminding himself that he was too old for such things, before he heard the creaking of stairs. He hid in his bed, hoping to avoid his mother if she were to be angry or upset. He heard the slamming of the bathroom door and he sat up again, taking his sleeve and wiping the dirt off of his window to look out into the greyness of Cokeworth and the nearest bog. Sometimes he would find himself staring, watching the gentle undulations of gas that would erupt from the slimy and polluted desecration of water and mud, whenever he didn’t have anything better to do, which was, admittedly, quite often.

He heard a scream come from the bathroom. He jerked out of his bed and ran towards the door, finding it locked.

_Mama, geht es dir gut?_

“Mum, are you alright?” he screeched, panic rising up, his throat catching. His face felt warms, his hands clammy. His eyes darted back and forth. He had always been terrified of the possibility that anything bad could ever happen to his mother. Or, rather, worse than it already had.

_Geh weg, Severus. Du musst mir etwas Zeit geben ... ich brauche Zeit ..._

“Go away, Severus. You need to give me some time… I need time...” Eileen began, erupting in a fit of coughs and whimpers before another low groan could be heard from the bathroom door.

Severus tried to break down the door, but did nothing but hurt his own shoulder. He wasn’t strong enough. He knew he wasn’t permitted to use his wand, and so instead he tried to use the wandless, wordless magic that he had practiced as a child. He glared at the doorknob, praying, hoping, praying again, that he could cast a wordless unlocking charm with sheer will. After several moments of holding his breath, holding his breath, and scrunching his eyes, the door opened slowly. There was a total silence, all-encompassing and certainly terrifying. The lights in the bathroom had been turned out. He could see the dark form of his mother crouching on the bathroom floor. He reached over to the rusty pull string to turn on the one flickering light bulb of the bathroom, and was shocked to see his mother sitting in a pool of her own blood, her face in her hands. She looked up at her son with a look he had never before seen on her face.

_Severus, du solltest das nicht sehen. Hör zu, Junge, geh hier raus! Lass mich alleine!_

“Severus, you shouldn’t be seeing this.” she said, a sternness and contemptment resounding in her low timbre. He tried to reach towards her, but she pushed him away. “Listen, boy, get out of here! Leave me alone!”

Severus left, returning to his room and making an effort to slam his door, returning his gaze to the bog. The next morning, he would watch as his mother walked with an old shoebox out to the nearby bog, where she let the box sink into its depths. It was only much later that Severus Snape could have understood such a memory.

 

***

 

Dumbledore had been notified by Millicent Bagnold that it had been confirmed that a student used improper magic to obliviate and thusly institutionalize a Muggle from the nearest working-class town of Tolladh Dòrainneach. The student, who had up until this point remained anonymous, was responsible for turning the man into an objective vegetable. He was rendered incapable of speech, movement without assistance, and had to be fed through a tube. His family could barely afford for him to live in an institution, and were therefore attempting to take care of him at home, which was not proving particularly fruitful.

“Do you understand, Albus, that you have let loose a potentially dangerous student out on the world? What was she even doing in a Muggle town anyways?” Bagnold remarked, pushing her glasses further up the bridge of her nose. “I see she has a very specific background, however. Care to explain?”

Dumbledore took a deep breath, giving Millicent a very much put-on weak smile, beginning to pace back and forth in his office, formulating an argument to keep this damn girl at Hogwarts. She had, in fact, proved to be helpful in judging the current equilibrium of the past several years since Voldemort’s demise, or, rather, disappearance. She had shown excellent skills in divination, and her identity as a Seer was most certainly confirmed through her various hallucinogenic ramblings whenever she dropped by his office, even if it were for only a brief moment or two.

“Yes, Millicent. Her parents are both Muggles. One recently hanged himself, and the other, we have discovered through performing our own background check, was institutionalized in Oxford and has left her daughter in charge of their home while she returns to her parents in America. She is also in Slytherin.”

“How did that happen? Surely the Hat wouldn’t think to…”

“Well, it did. Additionally, through some kind of poorly executed prank, the girl was inflicted with the Cruciatus Curse by a student who was promptly sent to Azkaban, as you are well aware.” Dumbledore marked, twirling his finger around his beard in a state of semi-absent thought.

“So this was the student who was afflicted? That is truly terrible. However, it does not justify her behaviour in any way, Albus. She acted impulsively regardless of circumstance. She destroyed a man’s life.”

“Millicent,” Albus began, approaching her fast. “You know that there are sometimes exceptions of rules and to traditional practices. We intend to keep her here to ensure her safety, to provide her with an education and to learn to control her power. She has proven to be a talented student. She has skipped three years of education here at Hogwarts and has scored highly on her O.W.L.s, which she took from a bed in the Hospital Ward under Madam Pomfrey’s supervision. We can reprimand her, sure, though that will have to be taken into effect the following year.”

“You are being too generous Albus. Who am I to disagree with you? You are the man who must get his way.” Millicent sighed. “We will pay a visit to the family home in order to discuss the Ministry’s intents to handle her situation accordingly. I will notify you of the outcome of our developments. I wish you well, Albus. Congratulations on yet another school year.”

“Thank you, Millicent. I hope all will be well for you this coming year.” He nodded in her direction, sighing deeply when she was gone and taking a seat at his desk where he sat, considering whether or not to inform the staff of this recent development.

 

 

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am currently a student at an unnamed university, and therefore this chapter is simply LITTERED with historical and literary references. I always love playing a little game with myself where I take symbolism and invert it and proudly make references that prompt others to frown and do research of their own. I love shit like that.
> 
> I also study multiple foreign languages, so hence the use of non-English language to direct the plot and provide context, even give some MAJOR clues so... watch out...
> 
> So do you think Albany is going to get in trouble with the Ministry, or will Albus's historically potent protection prevent such a thing? We'll see...
> 
> MUSIC:
> 
> 1\. Do You Love Me? (Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lOiUPl5GjTE
> 
> 2\. Starlit Mire (Psychic TV): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L9nlcrI6iV0
> 
> 3\. Swamp Thing (The Chameleons): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lYNHjmnlZbA
> 
> SPOTIFY PLAYLIST (all music chronologically for all chapters is found here):
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/mooniemoe/playlist/1BftWaSHedV8PHnvuicKXB?si=e4dlzJuRSvupKXDf5ktoig


	20. Polaroids of Uska Dara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus belies philosophical notions of near-Buddhist passivity in his teen years, Albany meets the Palestone family and Andrea's beau, Dmitri, they spend several nights on the town exploring the major cities of Europe, and Severus gives in to himself in a grubby, miserable fucker of a town.

 

***

 

One of Severus’s favorite ways to spend a weekend off from school was to go out by the lake and write. Write and write and write. The air was much cleaner than what he had grown accustomed to throughout his childhood, and he was very fond of it. The air was even fresher when Lily was around, though it seemed that that ship of joy had sailed, as well as, perhaps, many, many others like it.

He tried harder than ever to disassociate himself from school as much as he could. It was the only way he could think straight, and not completely come undone with the rage brewing inside of him. Sure, he had Avery and Mulciber, but those two were about it. He didn’t even really consider them to be his friends. Sure, he hanged around with them, he smoked a bit with them, sneering down at their fellow peers and younger students, expressing their discontent and disdain, occasionally spitting perverse phrases at those they deemed lesser. Severus, however, did his best to not push things too far. Control.

He thought to himself that, perhaps, life is better lived if you were to ignore all those who disinterested you, who didn’t care very much about you, especially if they meant ill-will to you. Sure, other people thought he seemed like a truly miserable bastard, which he was, but at least he had a philosophical basis for being such a bastard.

He had always struggled with friendships, and never quite found a place for himself anywhere. Sure, he was safe here, whatever that meant. He wasn’t happy. He thought that, perhaps, he would be. Everyone smelled fresh meat when he first walked into the Slytherin Common Room that day before Lucius took him under his wing. For one thing, he couldn’t seem to make friends with any girls other than Lily. Whenever there was a school dance, he simply wouldn’t go. He would go to the library and read, and if the library was shut down, he would go to his room and read. He didn’t want to see James and Lily together any more than he had to.

The year was 1976. Quite the year it had been in the Muggle world, but how deeply underwhelming it was in the wizarding one. He knew there were no pleasures to be had in either. There was no such thing as the concepts of hedonism that prevailed throughout both sets of reality. He found this fact to be somewhat infuriating, as he knew the weak were left behind in this branch of reality. He had seen it both in his fellow half-bloods and in the mudbloods running around Hogwarts as well as in Cokeworth, the little shitehole on the borderlands of Manchester, the epicenter, the true king kong of shite. There was nothing there for the poor. Only the upper-middle-class and, of course, the upper-class could actually enjoy society and reap the benefits of Aristippus’s sordid bloody philosophy.

Sure, he had always considered aligning himself with some distinctly political group, to regain some semblance of personal power and rights that he had been deprived of his entire life. However, this was not crossing his mind at this particular moment. Oh, no, not now. Instead, there went his gaze out onto the Black Lake, taking in the sights, breathing in the smells, though struggling a bit as Sirius had recently broken his nose with a poorly-aimed Knockback Jinx and he had been too nervous to go to the Hospital Ward for the third time with the same issue.

Before he knew it, he found himself lying down on the grass, gazing up at the sun, slightly obscured by the cold spring misty air. It was just as he had done when he was a child, and he knew he would never quite grow sick of it. Sure, his time laying sprawled out in the grass was limited. Surely one couldn’t do such frivolous and childish things as a real adult. You had to be conservative in your physicality, withdrawn, calculative, abstaining from all touch or contact for prolonged periods of time.

 

***

 

“Albany, it’s so lovely to meet you, dear. We have heard so much about you.”

Andrea’s mother, Christine Calista Abbott-Palestone, and her father, Patricius Burke Palestone, were both excited to meet their only daughter’s best friend. They were quite fascinated by Muggles and Muggleborns, and were curious to meet such a girl as Albany was described to be. Sure, they had heard of her issues with her temper and her unfortunate placement into Slytherin. They had also heard of her prowess in flamboyant magic, her humour, her kindness, her passion, and her abilities as a Seer. Needless to say, they were indeed quite excited to meet their daughter’s friend.

Albany felt a warmth in her stomach, the kind you feel after eating a good meal with friends when she entered the Palestone flat in London. The wallpaper was Victorian in many ways, as was the spiraling staircase with a white engraved banister. The walls were almost completely covered in portraits fluttering about, talking amongst themselves, judging the newcomer in the Palestone abode. The rooms were light blue, perhaps a kind of homage to Ravenclaw, with white trimmed edges and occasional purple decour on some of the more exquisite wallpaper in the rooms designated for hosting. It was said that they had owned this house since 1432, when their ancestors bought it in a Muggle residential part of London so as to avoid of suspicions of deviancy, whatever that definition may be. It is one that is often left up to interpretation.

She was introduced to their many relatives on the walls, she was given a tour of their clean and practically yet aesthetically pleasing kitchen, as well as a simple living room with an old well-lit fire. Upstairs, there were only two rooms. This meant that Albany was going to be staying with a couple in one room. She made a note to herself to make sure to give them extra privacy during at least some parts of the night. It didn’t bother her very much, since they had a small outdoor garden in the back where they grew lots of plants they had studied in Herbology, though they were charmed to appear like everyday flora and fauna, of course. They did have Muggle neighbors to think about. They actually spoke quite fondly of their neighbors, and were invited to quite a few neighborhood events and gatherings. They were fascinated with Muggles, and highly respected them, believing them to truly be equals and, in many cases, far superior than witches and wizards in certain fields.

Albany met the man of the hour, Dmitri Jakob Petrovich, a star Ilvermorny pupil and major fan of the city of London. He was a handsome shy wizard with pale, immaculate skin and a swab of messy brown hair. He had a charming smile and genuinely seemed embarrassed whenever he had to talk about himself. Andrea was clearly the leader of the relationship, initiating contact and conversation. He always seemed to be happy to go along with whatever she had planned, in any occasion as well. However, it was Dmitri who asked if the two girls wanted to go clubbing with him in London, as he’d never done it before and they all were of age to drink. Albany was ecstatic, desperately needing to find a way to break through the crisis of stagnation and self-resentment that had been building up inside of her the entire school year. Andrea was hesitant, more concerned than not about Albany going overboard, as she had a tendency to do. She was well aware of Albany’s compulsive and self-destructive tendencies and, although she knew that something bad was bound to happen, she nonetheless didn’t wanted to be a bummer during her time and her boyfriend’s time in London. She knew it wasn’t everyday that the two of them would get to be in a city like this one, and she wanted to make it special for the two of them. She sighed, and resigned to joining them, following them upstairs to dress and get ready for the occasion. Albany seemed unashamed in stripping right in front of Dmitri, who blushed scarlet and turned away as quickly as possible. Oh, how Andrea loved him.

When they were all ready to go out after Andrea helped Albany find a way to braid and tie up all of her hair, the three of them said goodbye to Andrea’s parents and headed over to the nearest wizarding pub in London, which was, in fact, The Leaky Cauldron. Albany really didn’t want to go.

“What... is the wizarding world just this lame and insular?” Albany groaned, tightening some of the strings on the back of her short and elaborately patterned folk dress. “You know, I think the Muggle bars and clubs would probably be better. I grabbed a ton of the money my mum left me. What, did you really expect me to leave the wad of cash unattended?”

“Don’t you think you should save that money?” Andrea said, arms crossed. “I think it would benefit you to be a bit more resourceful given your most recent circumstances. You will have to take care of yourself, you can’t use us as a crutch forever. We are willing to help you, Albie, but you are going to need to learn to have some more responsibility.” Albany couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

“Guys! Boy George, The Pet Shop Boys, Guns N’ Roses, Siouxsie Sioux, David fucking Bowie!” Albany said, cutting off Andrea’s sentence, causing her to groan and roll her eyes. Dmitri gave Albany a shy smile. He knew exactly what she was talking about. He, unlike Andrea, could understand all of her Andrea looked completely confused.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Andrea said.

“Muggle bands. Muggle celebrities. They’re fabulous.” Dmitri said. “I vote we check out Rough Trade Records. My dad visited London once and he told me all about it. Then we should go to Trash.”

“What the bloody hell is… Trash?”

“Fuck yes! Oh God, that place is _legendary!_ We’ve gotta go! Oh my God!” Albany was practically screaming, drawing some attention from patrons in the Leaky Cauldron. They decided it was best to go back in the alleyway, where Albany and Dmitri freaked out over musicians and clubs for what felt like an eternity. Andrea was getting agitated.

“Okay, can we just go to that… first place you mentioned?” Andrea sighed.

“Rough Trade. Of course.” Albany said, smiling up at Dmitri. Andrea was furious.

They made their way to the store to find a hoard of people swarming, trying to get in. Dmitri used a charm to disguise them for a moment, bringing them inside just to find a man with shaggy medium-length blonde hair signing records and various body parts.

“Oh shit! That’s Kurt Cobain!” Dmitri nearly shouted, drawing a few looks.

“No shit.” Albany said, bursting through the line and putting out her arm. “Sign my arm, Kurt.” He looked up at her and chuckled, quickly signing a pale piece of bare flesh with a toothy grin that somehow seemed quite out of character for such an otherwise melancholy and morose gentleman.

They headed to various other clubs throughout the night, Dmitri slyly using some memories charms to pay their way. Andrea was not approving of any of this, though she agreed to play along with whatever the two of them had in store. There wasn’t actually much they had planned or even agreed upon, really. There was a sense of aimlessness, of drifting through crowds and dancing badly to bad, and rarely good, music. When the music was good, however, boy oh boy was it good. The crowd got a real rip out of it, swaying back in forth like it the Crimean Sea on crack, tasting Soviet atomic bomb detonation exercises. Andrea found herself standing in the corner, hands around herself, hoping and praying that no one would come over and talk to her. A few boys did, but she politely declined and continued to stare down at her kitten heels and knee-length well-pressed skirt. It was her good skirt, the one she made a point to wear out whenever festivities were at hand. She felt that she wasting away in her nice clothes, watching her best friend and boyfriend dancing out there in a sea of Muggles. It was a sea where she knew she did not belong. For the first time, she realized that this, perhaps, was what it felt like to be Albany back at Hogwarts. Pieces of the puzzle were clicking into place, at last.

The three of them were walking back to Andrea’s flat in London, totally shattered, clutching onto one another, Albany’s ankles wobbling from flailing around on mild heels for hours and hours and hours. They had spent all of Albany’s money, the money her mother had given her to last throughout the summer, and Albany was drunk beyond belief. It wasn’t long until she was clutching a concrete wall, hurling up whatever little food she had been able to eat in her depressed stupor onto the city streets. Andrea was patting her on the back as Dmitri stood awkwardly on the sidelines, avoiding looking at the sick, as he himself had a very sensitive stomach.

Albany couldn’t even tell you what the family did the following day, though she felt herself wandering the streets of Paris before she knew it. She had been taught Spanish and Portuguese by her parents, as they were much in support of Latin American political uprisings, though her time with French in secondary school hadn’t been a pleasant one. She had never quite felt that intimate connection that one should feel when learning another language for the hell of it. Paris felt foreign to her, it felt unwelcoming and distinct cold and downcast, despite the obvious antithesis of her belief being the city’s garish and hedonist reputation.

She found a few wizard clubs that actually seemed interesting since it was well-known that the French, what with Beauxbatons being as fanciful and decadent as it is, would certainly have decent taste in aesthetics. Britain had been suffering with _sangrist_ proclivities and terrorist organizations for years now. France was really quite mild by comparison, and with much better food. Andrea and Dmitri agreed, spending a private lunch together while Albany explored. As she was doing so, she took out the little bottle of _felix felicis_ from inside her coat pocket and gave it a quick chug. The poor passerbys thought she was going to be publicly intoxicated. Oh, far from it.

Her day went swimmingly. People _oohhed_ and _ahhhed_ in her direction, as the glow from her dewy skin and the smile smattered across her face was more than contagious. That night, she found herself in such a wizarding club wrapped around an older wizard who led her towards the bar and bought her drink after drink. He didn’t speak English very well, and she didn’t speak French very well. She became incredibly drunk. She was given a pink and purple parakeet mated pair in a velvet white cage that almost resembled a cloud. She had been given money by a series of men and women she didn’t quite recognize it, and she found herself in several bedrooms before she was once again roaming the streets, her waist grasped by the hand of a man whose name she couldn’t remember, her free hand holding the cage of her two new pets, both of which didn’t seem to like the open Paris air very much.

She woke up the next day, fed the birds accordingly, and brought the cage out from the three of them’s room to Andrea’s parents, offering the birds as a gift for their hospitality. They were quite grateful, but Andrea scowled in Albany’s direction. They were treading in dangerous territory, the two of them. Dmitri was just completely perplexed by this all.

“Albany, they are truly lovely. Weren’t they expensive?” Andrea’s mother said, looking down at the charmed birds and back up at her daughter’s bizarre best friend. Bizarre was an understatement. What young woman gifts her friend’s parents with two enchanted parakeets while in Paris? It was, admittedly, a bit of a charming and aesthetic gesture.

 

*******

 

He had started to send those bloody letters right before the firecall, and from then on he knew that they were not going to be opened. He had expected some kind of reply, however short, out of courtesy, though it seemed like the brat didn’t have much of that to begin with. Who knew where she was as she traversed the world in the privileged carriage of the Palestone family? He wanted to tell himself that he didn’t bother very much to care, although he knew this would be a complete and utter lie. He cared so much, too much, in fact. He knew he had dug himself an unfortunate grave, and that it really was not worth obsessing over. He decided that he would spend this summer just as he had spent others before it: reading, staying inside, and reading some more. There was little else for him to do in Cokeworth. He had since repaired his childhood home and made it more comfortable and suitable, with the aid of magic, of course. However, he knew it was not really a home, and it never was, really. It had been a place to inhabit during transition periods, or when no other shelter was around. It was the place where Eileen Prince died, and he had wished she had been a more accomplished witch and could have turned into a ghost. He would have very much liked to have seen her autonomous and out of the cold grasp of Tobias Snape.

He had been reading a book on the properties of dragon scales in advanced potions making before realizing that he had already read this book. Twice. He growled in exasperation and threw it to the ground, staring at the beam of grayish light on the wooden floor from the windows. He had left the curtains open today, though usually he kept them shut. There was much talk about ‘the mysterious man in dark clothes who lives in that ugly old house over on Spinner’s End’. He was only there a fraction of the year, which also made him quite the myth of the town. He had to fight off the urge to hex children who would come by and throw stones at his windows. _That_ is why he kept the curtains drawn.

It was even more awkward that he had to pay Muggle property taxes and supply water and heating. He had to be as discreet as possible when he would go to Gringott’s and request they would transfer some of the meager Hogwarts salary he made into Muggle money. It was downright embarrassing, though he had developed a bit of a relationship with one goblin in particular who seemed to understand his situation, as much as goblins could, anyways.

After having thrown down the book, his blank thoughts were interrupted by the splosh of eggs on his uncurtained windows. The hairs on the back of his neck promptly raised and he felt himself shaking with anger. Muggle children and magical children aren’t all that different, after all. He got up brusquely and stormed out to his front door, where he proceeded to reprimand the boys, barely resisting the temptation to use his magic, though he later would to clean his windows. He knew the kids were terrified by him. He had, quite frankly, perfected the art of terrifying children into submission for years now.

He headed back inside and took deep breaths, fighting the urge to destroy his entire home and disappear off the face of the Earth, abandoning Hogwarts and Albus’s bloody demands to do… What? He had no idea what his life would be without Hogwarts. Again, thoughts returned to how many fucking letters he sent the brat, which she wouldn’t likely get a chance to see until she returned from her trip, and he doubted that she would even read them.

“She doesn’t even like you. She thinks you’re a joke,” he said, out loud, to himself, letting his baritone drawl resonate throughout his home, feeling for the first time in months that he had a place to verbalize his thoughts freely. “Here you are, a grown man, a man who has done terrible things, who is now doing more terrible things by fucking an emotionally disturbed student, and you have no one and nothing. _Nobody_ in this world loves you.”

He found himself crying, wiping tears away quickly, running into his bedroom and looking into the dusty mirror above the dresser. He stared at the man that he was, and frowned. He was ugly, sinister, dark, loathsome, mean, and downright evil in so many ways. He had, after all, willingly joined the Death Eaters, for Christ’s sake.

He regained his composure and pulled out a black ribbon from his dresser and pulled back his hair, thinking it made him slightly less recognizable. He changed into something more casual: a black button-up and black slacks, along with another black jacket and black shoes. He knew at least one Muggle would get suspicious at how much black one person can wear, and he had most certainly been called a ‘goth’ by some Muggle teens whenever he had to go about town. He sighed, regaining his composure before stepping out into the street, not entirely knowing where he was going.

He found himself in front of a goddamn brothel. He knew this one like the back of his hand. His father was a proud frequenter of this place, and Severus had sworn that he had seen some half-siblings with equally pestiferous schnozzes roaming about, as drunk and loud as their presumed father was. Nonetheless, Severus found himself entering, which he hadn’t done in years and years, ever since he was quite young and had to accompany Tobias inside to be shown what ‘real men do’. Only weeks before his mother’s death, of all times. When his father noticed how slack-jawed he became witnessing his own father fuck a local whore, he was given a firm slap across the face and then a fist to the nose for good measure. Tobias noted that he wouldn’t pay for his son, and told him to get the fuck out. He remembered running out into the street, tripping on cracked pavement. A woman asked him if he was alright and if he needed anything for the bleeding, but he couldn’t reply. He heard a few voices mumble, “it’s that strange Snape boy” before he found his way back home and pushed away his mother as she tried to coddle him. He found himself in the bathroom, which had no water, mind you, and hadn’t for years. He stared at his face and wondered about what kind of stuff in the house could be used as rope.

The Severus in the now found himself walking that cracked pavement on a mission. He made a concerted effort to look as painstakingly unapproachable as he could, scowling to the moon and back, noticing how little strands of black hair broke free and stuck to his perspiring forehead. He felt clammy, he could feel his legs wobble ever so slightly, but still, he felt this burning rage growing inside of him, and he had felt such a thing before. Many times.

He went to that same brothel, which was indeed still in operation under the guise of a shabby telemarketing agency. Clever wrong-doers, they were.

He couldn’t remember much of what happened. He had spoken with a man, he was met with a woman, he was led up some stairs that were poorly carpeted and stained with coffee, tobacco, piss, cum, maybe some blood. The woman had tried to hold his hand to guide him, but he promptly slapped it away. Foolish woman. She had little to no respect for herself, much less him, so what was the purpose of fabricated interactions and lust littered with lies? Well, there must have been a point if had dragged him off to a seedy, low-lyre brothel in the town where he hated, where his own father had frequented while his own mother slaved away at home, cooking meals, cleaning, limping along back and forth, her magic building up inside her, threatening to blow her apart. Literally.

He soon found himself grasping the woman’s arms, fucking her roughly while she tried to stare into his eyes, shrieking, giving him a performance he had little to no tolerance for. He would have preferred to choke her, though he wasn’t quite sure if this would merit a scolding from her pimp or from the receptionist downstairs. Instead, he kept fucking her, pressing her legs further and further apart, growling and grunting all the while like some uninhibited beast. He felt like a complete monster, though he took this ball of torment and unwound it, wrapping it around him like a warm and benign sweater, letting his skin sit with its excremental grease, allowing strands of jet black hair to slip from its loose attempt at bringing it to the nape of the neck. He felt a convulsion deep within his abdomen, and came into the whore muttering vulgarities and other explicit degradations.

When he had finished, he rolled off of her. She offered him a cigarette and he hesitated a moment before taking it and having a long drag, letting the smoke enter his lungs deep, penetrating his memories. The smell of tobacco was the smell of Tobias. Well, that and cheap rum. And greasy sweat and skin. And sordid voices and dire eclecticism. Tobias had always wanted something more than Cokeworth, though he found himself brought back there against his will. So had his son.

“Well, are you going to pay?” the prostitute said, her voice growing sour and gruff.

“Yes.” Severus answered blanky, handing her the cash and getting up to leave, hesitating for a moment, considering if he should make this proposition.

“What is your name?” he asked.

“Mary.” the prostitute answered after taking her cigarette from her mouth and blowing the billowing smoke around herself dramatically. She was definitely trying to be quite the vixen, some intoxicating anti-angel, though she was nothing more than a whore working in a scummy town. Perhaps she had other ambitions.

“You know, I’ve seen you around town.” she said.

“Yes?” he said, now realizing he was a bit out of breath from the encounter.

“Yeah, I was a bit younger than you. We both grew up here. Bloody shitehole, yeh?”

Severus paused. There was something strange going in his heart, some bizarre palpitation that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He remembered her words about snake venom and about a need for researching it. He had an abundance of resources on such things. What potions master wouldn’t? He had always been afraid of snakes, as a matter of fact. When he was a child, a grass snake nipped him on the ankle and he burst into a hysteria, limping all the way home. Sure, there was a tingle of fear in the back of his 11-year-old heart when he was placed into the house of the snakes, but his mother had been saved by it, and so there it must have been the best house. He had already made a few enemies declaring his love for it, so it seemed he had been it in for the long run. He most certainly had.

“Yeah. It is a bloody shitehole, indeed.” he stood up, though he was shocked when she grabbed his wrist firmly. He began to panic, as he didn’t have any more money to give her.

“What’s your name? You didn’t tell me. I jus’ told you. So? Go on, then.” Mary said, smiling a bit to reveal two bum teeth, though Severus knew he wasn’t one to judge about oral hygiene.

He flinched. “Why do you care to know exactly?” he growled, assuming the same tone and disposition he used when around students and children. She did indeed flinch, though a frown came across her face.

“No reason.” she muttered, getting up and dressing back into her previous cheap, skanky, and Chinese-manufactured getup, gesturing towards the door with a free hand a quick jerk of her neck. “You may go.” she said in her politest voice, trying hard to tone down her northern accent.

He scowled at her, zipped up his pants and grabbed his jacket, heading out the door in signature lanky, long, depressive strides. He found himself out on the street against, feeling a bit repulsed with himself. Had he really done such a thing? Of his own volition? With his father long since dead? He wasn’t quite sure what to make of such a development, or whether or not to feel true shame at the price of his own long-upheld control. Who was he kidding? There was no control in his life, only the illusion of it.

 

***

 

First was London, then was Paris. This could become a little song if we were to let it. Then there was Lisbon, where the two danced on a beach in vintage swimsuits and Albany made a dark pledge to become skinnier. The sun was bright and commanding, and Albany got a glimpse of herself in a piece of shattered mirror lying up against some driftwood haphazardly as she strolled along, only to grimace at her form and feel heat pulsating through her cheeks. She had embarrassed herself with only her own mind as an audience.

Then there was Rome, where they went to all the glorious Muggle spots as planned, and examined Celtic, Sardinian, Etruscan, and other types of magic buried deep in presumably Muggle architectural feats, particularly Hadrian’s column. It was charmed so that all witches and wizards could see the engraved shapes dancing to and fro, telling tales of wartime, legitimately speaking to passerbys, sometimes critiquing their clothing, other times expressing completely disinterest in a person’s entire life, and making that sentiment well known. Hadrian’s men would have liked Severus.

Amsterdam. She found the time to write to him about London and Paris, with absolutely no shame is removing some of the more sensitive details.

Saravejo. Catching up from Amsterdam, expressing general thoughts of worldly discontent and spiritual dysmorphia.

Then there was Berlin, where Albany found herself at a dyke bar and later entangled with nearly ten fellow women. It was madness, and the intermingling of witches and Muggles was in stark contrast to the country’s most recent Muggle history and the subsequent proclamation of the conceptual _Sacred 28_ module, as per Grindelwald’s sadistic wishes. The thought of that history made Albany near want to throw up, but so did almost all of Muggle history. One distinct human quality is the ability to bring destruction and hatred wherever they go. Sure, there is individual choices and merit and ideological proclamations, but one man or woman is an ant in the cyclical machine of common trends and baser, primal proclivities.

Then there was Warsaw. That was where she met Andrejz Seweryn Przykrośćki, a wizard who had been training at Durmstrang and had graduated a few years prior. He took her to a club where they had her chained up against a wall, having their way with her, the room a cloud of slurred Polish, Czech, Russian, and Ukrainian. He then took her up and away towards a train where they found themselves in Siberia, with particular plans in mind. He had no idea of the components of her blood.

 

***

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, sorry for the wait in the update. There's gonna be another big wait, most likely. I am super busy with school and in general my physical and mental health is something I need to take care of it. It's not too good. I'm kind of figuring out how to register for disability accommodations. So there you go, that's the extent of it really. I need accommodation. Which is kind of wack. Additionally, now that I'm back from the psych ward, there's like this really interesting disconnect between me and the rest of school. I feel like I have a clearer idea of who's fake and who isn't. A lot of people tend to put on little shows for socializing which I find incredibly obnoxious. They've done it for years and I have little to no pleasure in putting up with it. 
> 
> So there goes that. The update can be expected in the next month, hopefully.
> 
> ~~~
> 
> Music!
> 
> 1\. Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now (The Smiths): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TjPhzgxe3L0
> 
> 2\. One Million Lovers (The Growlers): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=59CZt1xsh5s
> 
> 3\. Astral Plane (The Modern Lovers): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OjhNyMo5qLY
> 
> 4\. Uska Dara Remix (Eartha Kitt, Can 7): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t4sTZGhFt5c
> 
> 5\. World Princess II (Grimes): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EOwhuTlxE54


End file.
